Order Up
by goldnox
Summary: AU/AH/ Damon Salvatore's life is going nowhere fast, unless he's racing to his next stop as a pizza delivery driver. But when the cute brunette he delivers to every Friday night applies for a job as a CSR, reality is quick to take hold. Can Damon justify following his heart towards a girl that is off limits? And if he does, where exactly is it going to take him in the end? / Delena
1. The Tip

**A/N: Good morning, my sweets! And it is here! This is the first chapter of my second foray into AU/AH, and it wouldn't be here without all of your support for _Auto In_. Cannot thank you enough! **

**A quick word about the characters: It is not uncommon to make AU/AH characters slightly OOC, it's just part of the deal when you start changing history, lifestyle, preferences... Sometimes OOC happens purposefully, others, not so much ;) This is thankfully the former. Because while holding the TVD names, ****these characters/story ****are going to be a bit new. But it's still my writing, still my style. So even though it may feel a little different at first, I implore you to get to know them a bit before making a firm decision on them. It took me a while before I knew who they were as people, and I absolutely fell in love with them. (Although yes, you could argue that I'm biased ;) ) And yep, we are in Damon POV and will stay for the entirety. I have way too much fun living in that gorgeous man's head. Hope you enjoy!**

**All my non-lynching thanks to Trogdor19, for keeping me going when I had about 12 catastrophic freakouts and tried to abandon writing entirely after the chapter of which we do not speak. Gracias, fongue tucker.**

**Happy reading! (And let the games begin!)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Tip**

There's a special level of hell reserved for pizza delivery drivers.

Red lights. Flat tires. Traffic. But there are also snarling, vicious demons that snip at us in the form of missing coupons, forgotten two liters, apartment gates that won't open without a sacrifice to the gods and the Queen Mother of personal Fuck My Life-ness: the no tippers.

I don't know what I did to deserve my presence in this inferno, but here I am at an unproductive twenty-one years old. Actually, I know what I did: I dropped out of community college because it was taking me nowhere at an expensive snail's pace. And after I flipped a coin that was heads: cardboard box, and tails: the end of the world, I oh so gleefully moved in with my older brother, Stefan, and his girlfriend of more years than not, Caroline. I then loudly scoffed at the construction job that pays Stefan's bills but is ruining his life, the same one that he's constantly trying to drag me into alongside of him.

"_But, Damon, it's good pay and steady work and you'll respect yourself more and then you can move into your own place and I think we can swing a company truck for you and…"_ Blah blah blah.

Sorry, brother, but that's not me. For one: with my fair skin and jet black hair and ice blue eyes, I'm smart enough that I'm not about to risk perpetual skin damage thanks to the blazing Tucson sun, and my barely-breathing sex life agrees with me wholeheartedly. Although it probably wouldn't be so hard to get laid if I didn't smell like pepperoni ninety-nine percent of the time; if when a girl sat in my car she didn't immediately cringe at the obscene amount of parmesan and red-pepper packets that are stashed in my cup holders.

And number two: it may make him feel better to have to pay fifty bucks for a quarter tank of gas since I'm pretty sure swiping his debit card is the only action he's getting, at least based on the never ending circle of arguments between him and his girl, but I don't want some massive diesel truck that makes it look like I'm compensating for something when I'm _not._ I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you, and I know how to take care of a woman. If I can get her to stick around.

But I honestly think that's the reason why Stefan's always pointing his finger in my face about going to work for him: just so he can get me to put my car into storage. Because when our dad died four years ago, he willed his fully restored 1970 Chevelle Super Sport to me and not to Stefan. It shouldn't have been that big of a surprise because working on it was always _our_ thing, but I think Stefan took it kinda hard being the first born son and all. Regardless, I'm not gonna disrespect my father's gesture by locking the SS in a garage, singing it lullabies and bringing it daisies like Stefan would've because "It's too much of a classic to drive on a daily basis."

Fuck that. You better believe I'm gunning the engine inside that gorgeous red beast each and every chance I get. Which I'm currently doing, hauling ass to get back to the store so I can grab my next round of deliveries and try to make some money before the phone company shuts off my cell and I make the nose dive into celibate.

I swing into the parking lot way too fast for what I know my boss, Ric, appreciates, my tires spitting gravel into the traffic that had the good fortune of gawking at my taillights and I don't care. It's six o'clock on Friday night and we're busy as all hell because the local high school kids are doing their best to ring our phone lines off the hook, needing their carb cram to preemptively soak up the alcohol they're about to be guzzling. And if it's not the pimply, premature ejaculators that are calling, then it's Mommy and Daddy because they're either too tired to cook after getting off work or maybe they're just bribing their little angels to be good for Susie Babysitter before they sneak off to a motel for their weekly date night. Either way, we're slammed.

I pop my parking brake and grab the empty warming bags from my passenger seat, and I have my door open and boot hitting the concrete before my engine has fully stopped its delectable growling. It's a familiar six long strides to the side door that has a cloud of smoke hanging over it because that's where half of our staff lives when Ric's not looking, and when I head inside I am immediately blasted by the smell of death by grease. _That_ and the sound of our head CSR, Rebekah, rattling off a mile long greeting that no one understands or cares about before she tells them to hold so she can repeat the same corporate version of hello eight more times in ten seconds.

I stop by the front counter and Rebekah shifts the phone to her other shoulder, one hand punching in an order on the touchscreen computer and the other opening up the register. She doesn't even look at me when I hand her the receipt from my run and while she's repeating the order on the phone, she passes me the cash from my tip. Eight bucks, I can absolutely work with that. I slide it into my pocket and turn to go, but she snags my sleeve and I pivot to see her thrusting the receipt in my face that claims Mr. Nice Tipper said he had a coupon. One that Rebekah needs to balance her register for the night. One that I didn't get. Whoops.

And the accusing pout on her face tells me that she instantly knows I accidentally screwed her over, since delivery drivers and CSRs are constantly in the middle of a flirt war like we're red shirts vs blue: teasingly debating whose job is harder and more thankless and downright shitty but nonetheless more important, and she leaves the touchscreen to playfully bat at my arm with both hands while I duck away with a snort.

It's not that big of a deal. Because after finishing my shift and folding more boxes than required by Amazon, washing dishes and prepping food for tomorrow, sweeping and mopping and all my other delightful closing duties, I'll make it up to her by spending twenty minutes digging through the local newspapers and door hangers to find whatever that coupon was. And once I have it, along with all the others I missed, I'll kindly staple them to the receipts she set aside in the Post-It Note marked bucket that claims them part of the Jerk Pile.

Yep, she totally adores me.

"Order up!" Rebekah yells when she finishes the call. Then it's quick as a breath between her whipping around and grabbing a personal-sized pizza box out of the warmer, then spinning on her heel to smile at the grandpa waiting at the counter that she passes it to before picking the phone back up and restarting with a falsely cheerful, "Thank you for holding and would you like to hear about our specials?"

The other CSRs' voices are a maze of questions and answers and toppings, oh my, the register dinging with an obnoxiously loud clang every time it pops open and then gets slammed shut, the sound interlaced with the sucking and slurping of the drive through window when it gets pulled on every three seconds after being preceded by one hell of an annoying bell. Cooks are steadily calling out instructions to each other over the sound of Ric bitching at them for screwing something up while somewhere, a buzzer goes off, and I'm nodding my head and discreetly getting down to the beat of the nineties dance music coming in over the speakers while scanning the stack of deliveries waiting to hit the road.

Friday night it certainly is.

I continue checking the delivery rack with growing disappointment until I spy my favorite address, and I smile. You'd think that as drivers we wouldn't care where we're going as long as we have places _to go_. You'd be wrong. Because we know where the red lights are longest and where the traffic spikes at 5:46 and where the cops watch the roads like they're at a strip club. And we know your address. We know how often you order and whether this is your normal one topping medium pizza which means that you're at home in your pajamas again, or if you suddenly order three larges and breadsticks and ton of drinks because you're throwing a party. We also know whether or not you tip, and how much.

Those delivery fees we tack on that you love to bitch at our CSRs about? That's an attempt from the company to compensate my minimum wage and pay for my gas. Except that the delivery fees haven't budged, despite the price of oil spiking beyond anything _sane_, and unless you're hooking me up with a ten for my trouble I'm always in the hole. So don't be surprised when you hand me a quarter, and I flick it into your eye socket. And yeah, I could get a better job. I could try to go back to school and finish my degree so I could "be somebody." I could do a lot of things. But I don't.

I snag the delivery bag, checking over the receipt to see if it's the same old same old. Yep: two medium two toppings, cinnamon sticks and the standard request for extra parmesan packets and lots of napkins. No problem, gorgeous.

"I'm out," I say to Ric, who is currently at the cutting station and hacking away our cooks' hard work with a blade that I wouldn't taunt with an Uzi.

"You better be taking more than one delivery," he warns and I roll my eyes.

I've been working for him for forever, known him even longer, and after we got past the initial weird part when he kissed me over a beer and I had to explain that as sexy as his stubble is, I don't swing that way, we became good friends.

He's a ruthless pool player, more helpful with a set of socket wrenches than Stefan could ever hope to be, _and_ he has superior taste in bourbon, all qualities I can aptly appreciate. Except that the more we drink, the more he complains that there are no decent men left in this world and that the lack of frequency in his sex life is a travesty that could earn him a stint on Dr. Phil due to causing his self-esteem issues. And that's before he downshifts into talking about the guys in _Magic Mike_ like they're Victoria's Secret models. To which I respond by showing him some not so family friendly pictures of the latest Maxim covers, and then thoroughly enjoy watching him squirm because he believes in "working with what you know" and will loudly proclaim to any who will listen that the female body is a minefield of confusing traps that you couldn't pay him to explore in naked detail.

Fucking insanity. But it's nice that when we're hanging out and playing pool with a girl I like, I know he's not sneaking glimpses down her shirt or looking at her ass. Because he's usually checking out the guy who is playing at the table next to us.

It's official: I need more gay friends.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," I tell Ric while he glares at me, Jesse bumping me out the way and taking four bags off the delivery shelf without even checking where they're going. But then the timer on the deep fryer we use for the hot wings goes off again and he tosses the bags down to pull the basket of chicken out of the oil, immediately beginning the process of covering them in their requested flavor of liquid sugar before boxing them up.

He's such a goody goody.

"Order up!" Rebekah calls out from the front again as the printer next to the cook station beeps, a plastic-gloved hand striking out to tear off the rectangle piece of paper it produced and sticking it up into the stainless steel order line above our three cooks standing side by side, spreading sauce and sprinkling cheese and dealing assorted meats like it's what they were born for.

"Dammit, Damon, I don't have time for you to pull this shit tonight," Ric snaps over one of the cooks cussing out another for forgetting the black olives on the pizza they just slid into the oven, and my shoulder gets bumped again but this time it's one of the other CSRs who is stomping off towards the walk in freezer. My head swivels as I watch him go, his hand tugging through his hair before he kicks the prep table in the back and then disappears around the corner. Yeah, their job does suck more.

I pucker a kiss at Ric and head out of the kitchen, ignoring Rebekah who calls after me not to forget the coupon while I'm already blowing through the side door to where my car is happily waiting for me. I slide in and set the bags down in my passenger seat, and I'm peeling out of the parking lot while two of our other drivers' cars pass me like they were racing to see who could get back first. Dumbasses.

I speed the other direction down the 77, my eyes lazily drifting over the peaked skyline that's just being touched by the sunset and I roll down my window, breathing in the warm, spicy wind and losing myself in the rumble of my V8 while the chaos of the store disappears into the white lines painted on the asphalt as they flash behind me. Before long I duck off onto a back road, heading to the lovely Catalina Foothills Estates, and this run is going to take me forever, but it's worth it.

The brother always calls it in, a punk little freshman with headphones I would love to get my hands on, and he's a bit of a smartass, but he's not the issue. The silver Mercedes S63 is the problem, _if_ he's there. Mommy is a white Audi SUV that I've only seen twice, because I think it lives in the garage while she's in the pool. But the reason why I haul my ass all the way out to BFE every Friday night is for a glimpse of the blue BMW X6 with the most beautiful black rims I have ever seen. And she's certified jailbait, but she's cute as all fuck and I'm allowed to look.

I figured she had a cute little Mini Cooper or a VW Beetle that was stashed away, and that the tricked out luxury crossover was a spare they were holding for when her brother turns sixteen. But when Junior was sputtering and freaking out at the front door one night because he was home alone and didn't have any cash, imagine my surprise when Princess suddenly pulls into the driveway, sliding out of an exquisite leather interior while wearing a ponytail and spandex pants and one jaw dropping little purple workout top.

She ran to the door and stopped right next to me, batting those thick black eyelashes while a bead of sweat ran from her temple into those dark brown baby hairs that always slip loose and frame her face. And the whole time while her glossed lips were apologizing profusely because of something about dance practice running late, all I could hear in my mind was a symphony of moans and whispers and orgasmic screams followed by the jarring click of handcuffs and cell bars slamming closed.

I pulled myself together and gave her the food I was there to deliver, but my self-control almost vaporized when she bit her lip with a blush after I told her goodnight. I turned and began making my way down the absurdly long driveway, but every step of the way I could feel her gaze burning through my shirt and tracing the line of muscles in my back. So when I got in my car, I revved my engine louder than the HOA tolerates and she immediately jumped and shut the front door like she was busted, and now every Friday circa six o'clock I play reckless and stupid and see if I can get her to smile.

I went so far as to wink at her last week, and she damn near dropped the pizza. Made my whole night. Even though that makes me a masochistic idiot because there's no way she's a day over seventeen.

I finally stop beside the driveway and the garage is open, the Audi SUV tucked safely into its spot and that sweet little X6 sitting right beside it as though it's the younger, more fun version. Fucking slays me. I check and Daddy S Series with his accusing glares and uppity attitude is nowhere to be seen, although I can't really blame the guy for being a suspicious dick. If I had a daughter that looked like his I'd probably want to surround her with surveillance cameras and guard dogs too.

I grab the warming bags from my passenger seat and the parmesan packets from my cup holder, then make my way to the front door, listening to the peace that's bought by homes that range well into seven figures. I ring the doorbell and it opens two seconds later, Growth Spurt looking me over before his head tilts up towards the second story like he's looking through the ceiling.

"Elena, I need the money!" he yells and my eyebrow quirks. That's new. "She'll be down in a second," he tells me and then turns and walks off, leaving the door open and a nice clear view to the inside of the house.

My eyes scan over lush furniture and bouquets of exotic flowers and paintings of nouveau art that are supposed to be easy and relaxed and "normal," but even from here I can tell that if their mom isn't a professional decorator, whoever picked out those area rugs and dining room table _was,_ and yeah, whatever their dad does for a living, he isn't fucking around.

Footsteps fly down the stairs that are just inside the foyer, but to the right, and I clear my throat.

"So sorry," she breathes at me, swinging around the banister, and I swallow.

She must have just gotten out of the shower and she's mouthwateringly adorable in gray drawstring pajama pants and a ribbed red tank top, throwing her wet hair into a pile on the top of her head and doing some sort of magical maneuver with a rubber band before she lets it go and it somehow stays there. The whole look is so casual and wonderfully messy and sweet: her lack of makeup and how she smells like toasted almonds and rich, dark mocha, and then my focus shifts to a drop of water that's slipping and sliding down her delicate little neck and just…fuck my life.

"No problem." I smile and she takes the pizza boxes I hand her, setting them down on a side table just inside the door that's housing a tiny purse and an unassuming backpack, and plopped beside the table's legs, there's a red and gold gym bag with an emblem of a dancer embroidered onto the side, the word "Captain" stitched underneath in white.

She slips the pair of twenties into my palm, and the corner of my lips turns up when her fingertip brushes mine, her cheeks staining pink.

"Keep the change, Damon," she tells me timidly, and I tilt my head at hearing her say my name. Her eyes instantly grow a little larger and then it's a whole bunch of fumbly, "Um, it's on your nametag…"

My eyes dart down to my shirt where that little piece of identifying plastic is pinned, and when I glance back to her, Little Miss Oh Hell Yeah looks like she's about thirty minutes past mortified and ready to sink into the walnut floorboards beneath her bare feet.

"Right. Have a good night, Elena," I say smoothly, and I swear to God I think she just sucked in a breath. But I can't be sure because I've already turned around and I'm heading back to my car before my fun gets ruined.

Aw, fuck it.

I pivot and continue walking backwards, and she's still there, watching me.

"See you next week?" I call out, and she tucks a loose hair behind her ear, propping herself against the doorway.

"Probably," she says with a laugh, and I nod once.

I turn again and am greeted with the sight of a silver Mercedes pulling in the driveway, his window rolled down and one mighty glare being thrown my way. I smile tightly and sling the empty warming bags over my shoulder, flipping my car keys around my finger all the way back to my SS.

I think her name might have been the best tip I've ever gotten.

* * *

**A/N: And we're off! Can't wait to hear your thoughts, click those buttons like mad if you please (they really, really like it, it makes them all tingly inside ;) ) and keep your eye out for a smutty two shot by Nighlightbright that is getting polished after the world's dirtiest email convention btwn me, her and Trogdor19. (Govt email readers smoked a carton from the explicitness) OH! and God bless vaporizers, because I am now a proud vapor that vapes! It's awesome, I encourage you to check it out if you're a smoker (which I was for 10 years.) Let's see what else...OH YEAH! Congratulations to Michelle Hazen (my trogster) for kicking all the ass on Amazon! Forsworn is incredible, and you should be stupid proud. Other than that, I will see you next week (we're gonna roll updates once a week unless I get crazy ahead like last time and start getting restless) and be sweet and kind to one another. Adore you all!**

**-Goldnox**


	2. Hopeless Fairytales

**A/N: HOLY SHRIMPCOCTAILS! I AM STUNNED, HONORED, BLOWN AWAY BY THE ABSOLUTELY CRAZY RESPONSE YOU GUYS THREW AT THAT FIRST CHAPTER! I MEAN, WOW, TALK ABOUT STARTING WITH A WHOLE LOT OF A HELL-YEAH BANG! **

***blinks in awe***

**Anywiggles, here is the next chapter, with a little bit more of a intro to the world we're gonna be living in for this story before we _really_ kick it all into high gear. Hope you guys enjoy!**

**PS: For those who are wondering, the age of consent in Arizona is 18, a problem for our 21-year-old delivery heartthrob. **

**ALL my thanks and love to the unflappable Trogdor19, who somehow manages to interpret my drunken emails and texts in which I do nothing but babble and profess my undying love for her. And for Damon. And Jeremy's abs. God bless you, instagram. **

* * *

**Chapter 2: Hopeless Fairytales**

I open the refrigerator and look over the contents, my nose wrinkling with distaste. I don't know why I'm checking again, it's not like a wealth of food would have just magically appeared in the twenty minutes since before I took my shower this morning and now. Still, I grab the carton of orange juice and straighten as I unscrew the lid, drinking greedily until my liquid breakfast gets snatched out of my hands by my brother.

He smacks me upside the head for not using a glass because it drives his girlfriend nuts, but then he takes a pull himself before putting the juice back in the fridge. I snort and head into the living room, plopping down on the couch. Stefan collapses beside me a moment later, picking up the black PlayStation controller and handing me the red one.

"What time do you have to be at work?" he asks, loading up the new Gran Turismo game he brought home for us two weeks ago, and I yawn.

"Eleven."

"Just enough time for me to kick your ass." He smiles and I kick at his foot, Caroline appearing out of their bedroom and clicking her tongue at us disapprovingly before she sits on the couch beside Stefan, snuggling up onto his shoulder.

"What are you still doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be at the construction site?" I ask him, tweaking the settings on my preferred Bugatti while he does the same beside me on the split screen, and he sighs.

"Rainout."

"Thank God," Caroline mumbles.

"Damn monsoon season is killing me…"

"Best part of the year," Caroline says happily.

I shake my head, concentrating on staying in the apex of the turn when he and I start racing our identical cars down the Monaco track. His Bugatti black, mine red, like always.

I overtake him in the turn and nudge his front right fender with my rear left one, sending him spinning out into a barrier, and I laugh smugly.

"What the fuck, man?"

"Sucks to be you, bitch."

"_Boys,"_ Caroline admonishes, and I chuckle as my car pulls steadily ahead.

As far as brothers go, I could have a worse one.

He's six years older than me and when Dad's heart gave out, Stefan had already moved out of our childhood house and into an apartment with Caroline. In _Phoenix._ And I was seventeen at the time that my whole world changed, so Stefan could've just called and said for me to suck it up and figure it out on my own because he wasn't going to come back when I was so close to eighteen, but he didn't. He moved them back into our house in Tucson to stay with me through the last of my junior and senior year of high school, and it's not like I needed a babysitter, but it was just…shit was a mess.

My dad and I were really close, and losing him so suddenly like that…it wasn't easy on me. Plus, what did I know about paying a mortgage or property taxes or any of that stuff? I was barely passing my Calculus class. And I wasn't ever under the impression that we were rolling in dough, but I didn't realize how bad it actually was because he didn't tell me anything except to be careful when working on the engine of the SS. It wasn't until after the funeral was over that my brother sat me down and finally leveled with me. Because when our father died, he didn't just leave behind a pair of sons that best communicate through video games. He left a stack of past due bills and a house that got foreclosed on a week before I graduated.

Stefan and Caroline and I moved into an apartment, and a year later when I decided to try living on my own because their up and down relationship was driving me insane, my brother wished me good luck and helped me move out. I expected them to book it back to Phoenix because Caroline was always saying how much she liked it there, but they stayed in Tucson and even though Stefan never said why, it didn't take long before I figured it out.

I think he somehow knew what was going to happen, and it wasn't another year before I found myself in the same position as my dad was in before he died: everything quickly going from final notices to getting shut off, and I just couldn't cut it on my own. It was a hard fucking pill to swallow to tell my big brother that I failed in Adult Independence 101, but Stefan must have a heart in the stocky chest of his because he didn't say dick. Only that everyone fumbles at first and this is what family is for, and he didn't even complain all that much about helping me move back in with him and Caroline in the hundred plus degree heat.

But he's still my big brother and he rags on me constantly about getting a better job, about cleaning up around the apartment, about trying again and moving forward in my life, but right now I'd just rather take it easy. It's not like I have to be responsible for anyone, have any parents to report to. All I have is a brother who has his own life, his own relationship to focus on, and who thankfully doesn't pretend he's anything _except_ my brother slash friend.

At least when I'm not kicking his ass on Gran Turismo because it's the one area in life that I come out ahead of him.

"Come on, Grandpa…" I taunt, the finish line on the racetrack in view and Stefan's Bugatti's headlights a mile behind my rear bumper.

"Shut up."

I slow down just a little so his car can get closer, and when he tries to pass me, I gun the engine and pull ahead once more.

"That was a dick move," he grumbles and I smile, slowing the car down and gunning it past him again.

"You two need to grow up." Caroline sighs, snuggling further into Stefan's side. "And one of you needs to go to—"

"Ha!"

"Dammit!" Stefan yells when I cross the finish line ahead of him by just a fraction of a second, both of us tossing the controllers down on the coffee table. "What were you saying, babe?" he asks Caroline, but before she can speak I cut in.

"That she's leaving you for a guy who still has his dignity."

He turns and feigns a punch to my stomach, and when I curl over protectively, he smacks the back of my head with his other hand.

"Dumbass." He snickers. "You've been falling for that since you were ten."

"Dick," I mutter and get up, stretching my arms over my head with a yawn. I turn and glance around, then tilt my head at Caroline. "Have you seen my keys? Or my wallet? Phone would probably help too…"

Stefan snorts while she rolls her eyes with a smile. "Kitchen counter."

"Thanks." I grin, walking over to grab my stuff where she must have put it for me.

"You're too nice to him," Stefan mutters, his arms hugging her closer as I walk back across the living room towards the front door. I look over to jerk my chin at my brother in goodbye, flipping him off for good measure, and after he narrows his eyes at me, he drops a kiss to Caroline's hair.

She shrugs. "Someone should be. It's not his fault he got stuck with you for a sibling."

I head out the front door, unable to get away from the nauseating display fast enough when Stefan starts tickling her, Caroline bursting into shrieking giggles and squeals. Although it's kind of nice that they're not fighting today.

I slide into my car and the short drive to the store goes way too quickly, even with traffic crawling because of the rain that kept Stefan home. Monsoon season always sucks for him because if he's not working, he's not earning, but as soon as the dry weather disappears in July and August I always make bank. Something about cloudy skies seems to be a Pavlovian trigger for ordering pizza, and they all want it delivered because why should they get wet coming to pick it up when they can get me to do it for them?

I pull in and park, and the side door to the store instantly opens, Ric poking his head outside and waving at me to come in. I roll my eyes and slide my keys into my pocket, getting out of the car and following after him until we're in the back of the store.

"What's got you running late? Manage to finally land yourself a date last night?" Ric asks when he opens the door to the walk in freezer, and I blow out a breath as I pass him.

"That would be a no."

He closes the door behind us, and as I scan the stacks of boxes and racks of vegetables, my mind starts cataloging all the other stuff that I need to do like sorting the chicken pieces and cleaning the grease trap and dammit, I just remembered I'm on restroom duty today and suddenly I'm feeling a little under the weather. Cough cough.

"Well, if you ever decide to give up on women since you seem to be striking out more than you hit home runs, give me a call."

"And you don't think Klaus is gonna have a problem with that?"

When Ric met Klaus a few weeks ago, he kinda lost it over this guy. And normally when he tells me about the guy he's dating he'll play it close to his chest and say how he's cool or funny and not much more, but when the confession came Ric was a little drunker than normal, and it was all slurred and swoony, "He's perfect and sexy and I think this guy could be my Prince Charming. Or I could be his…"

I look over my shoulder to see Ric crossing his arms.

"Not his fucking business anymore."

I shake my head, then grab a box of premade, frozen dough, balancing it on my shoulder and curling my other hand around the handle of a bucket of sauce. Poor guy can't keep a boyfriend for any time longer than I can keep my bank account out of the red. "Thought he was the British end-all be-all…"

He snorts. "If that means a narcissist who has more daddy issues than could be solved in ten lifetimes, then yes. Oh, and let's not forget when he took it upon himself to critique every item in my closet while telling me that he doesn't want to be seen in public with me anymore because I dress like a lumberjack."

I burst out laughing, ungracefully setting down the box of dough and bucket of sauce before I drop them.

"It's not funny, dick."

I straighten and lean back against the shelves of food, scrubbing the heel of my hand over my eyes. "Christ, I needed that. And you do dress like a lumberjack."

"Plaid goes with everything," he tells me, offended, and I laugh harder.

I finally get myself under control while he scowls at me, and when I clap him on the shoulder, he shrugs me off and then grabs two boxes himself. "Sorry, man. I know you liked him, but that is fucked up."

"Thank you."

"Maybe next time you should try a trucker. Pretty sure they'd agree with your clothing preferences."

"You're an asshole," he tells me, then turns and kicks the door open, heading out of the walk in.

I re-grab my box and bucket, and when I come out and set everything down on the table next to Ric, I wince when he splits apart two pieces of frozen dough like they're responsible for his disaster of a love life. He pauses and pulls a knife from his back pocket, leaning over and cutting open my box for me before he snaps the blade closed, going back to his own.

I clear my throat, waiting as Jesse gathers all his freshly cut bell peppers and takes them into the kitchen to put them away. "Want me to take you shopping?" I ask quietly once Jesse's out of earshot, and Ric's head whips to the side as he glares at me.

"Fuck you."

I chuckle lightly. "Ric, I'm trying to help you out, man. I want you to have your fairytale. Prince Charming and all."

"Shut up. I'm seriously pissed off at you right now and I'm not above firing you."

I throw my hands up in surrender. "Tell you what: you let me keep my job, and I'll wingman for you at the bar of your choosing this weekend."

He stays quiet for a minute, then turns back to the box of dough before mumbling, "You sure?"

I shrug. "Yeah. And if Klaus shows up then all the better. But don't think that means you can be getting all handsy with me. I'm off limits." I smirk and Ric snorts.

"You know he claimed until the very end that something was going on between you and me?"

"Does that mean he found the pictures?" I whisper mockingly, and Ric shakes his head.

"You would be so lucky."

"Love you too, honey."

"Just…go unlock the front door."

"Yes, sir," I say dramatically, giving him a two finger salute before patting his ass on my past him.

"Dammit, Damon!"

I duck away from the empty cardboard box that whizzes by me, turning on the open sign and then unlocking the deadbolt on the door.

Let the games begin.

And like clockwork, the phone immediately begins ringing and I roll my eyes, making my way back behind the counter. It's like they _know_.

I take the first order of the day, trying not to audibly sigh because this daycare always wants a ton of food and doesn't tip for shit. I finally hang up and roll out my neck, then check the clock on the wall. Rebekah should already be here by now, but she's been getting here later and later. And I get that she's fed up with working here, we all are, but if she thinks I'm gonna do her job for her then she and I are gonna have a talk.

The front door opens and when I turn to greet the customer, mentally cursing Rebekah, my stomach flips.

What the fuck?

Elena stops in place with her hand on the door, one foot in and one foot out and my heart is doing the Hokey Pokey and I'm completely lost at what is happening. Is she here to complain about me? It's been a week since I delivered to her house last Friday, so if she was gonna say something about me being inappropriate or forgetting part of her order, you'd think she would've said it by now…

And not only that, but why is she wearing a little pencil skirt and high heels and a blouse that looks about ten years too old for her?

I clear my throat and lean forward on the counter, bracing my weight on my elbows with my head tilted curiously. "You're letting all the cold air out," I tell her and she startles a little, then bites her lip and finishes making her way inside.

She ducks her head timidly when her heels click on the tile, and it's like a reset button to my system since she's usually in her pajamas whenever I deliver to her. And for the life of me I can't figure out which look I like more, but I'm pretty sure I'm leaning towards drawstring pants and ribbed tank tops.

"Can I help you with something, Elena?" I ask a little quieter and she smiles at the floor, smoothing her palms down her sides before she lifts her head, her eyes locking onto mine. At least she doesn't look pissed or like she's about to get me fired, so that's encouraging. "And shouldn't you be in school or something?"

"I have a half day on B track," she says a little too quickly, and I nod once like I remember what that means. "But um, yeah…is the manager here?"

I arch an eyebrow. "Ric!" I call out and my buddy waltzes up, stopping beside me.

"Can I help you?" he asks Elena and I straighten, my arms crossed with a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Her eyes dart to me and then back at him, and she daintily clears her throat. "I was wondering if you're hiring."

My grin grows. I think she's the first person to ever come in _here _looking for a job while dressed like _that_.

And I don't know what tips her off to what I'm thinking, but she suddenly shifts her weights and gestures to her outfit, saying, "I'm sorry if this is inappropriate…" And I feel like a total ass.

"Elena, it's fine," I assure her and when Ric glances at me, pure suspicion on his face, I roll my eyes at him. "You gonna give the girl an interview or what?"

"Don't you have a delivery to make?" he asks, amused, and I narrow my eyes at him. Yeah, he's so gonna fuck with me about this, I can already tell.

I look back at Elena. "Good luck."

She smiles, then laughs lightly when Ric elbows me towards the kitchen before officially introducing himself. And I have no idea who I have to thank for this stroke of luck in my life, but they're my new best friend.

Because maybe when I'm in the middle of cutting and boxing up the last of the daycare's order, I risk a discreet wink at Elena while Ric walks her back to his office. And it's entirely possible she breathed a silent, single little giggle in return, but who am I to notice?

I finally finish boxing up the order and head out to my car, not caring when I hit every red light between the store and my destination. I'm calm and collected while stuck outside in the rain holding ten large pizzas when genius takes forever to unlock the front door, _after_ I climbed the thirty steps that led up to it. I don't even mind when she only gives me five bucks for driving all the way out there and dealing with the crap that normally makes me want to put my fist through a wall. But there's nothing wrong in my entire world when I get back to the store, because there's a blue BMW X6 still sitting in the parking lot.

I head inside, relieved to find that Rebekah has finally moseyed in, and she doesn't say anything other than to scoff in solidarity at my shitty tip when she cashes me out. I fling the empty bags on the shelf, seeing Ric and Elena walking out of his office and both chuckling at something. She holds her hand out and he startles a little at the gesture before shaking it, and I smile and slide back around the corner so I'm out of view.

"You see the new CSR?" Rebekah asks and I look at her. "She's gotta be like _twelve_."

"Ooh, and the claws come out already," I tease and she rolls her eyes, lightly swatting at my arm as she heads outside to smoke, muttering something about how she can't wait to pawn all the BS prep onto High School Barbie.

I chuckle and lean against the wall, and not two moments later Sweet Pea makes her way around the corner, jumping with a start when she sees me.

"Holy cow, Damon, you scared me," Elena rushes out, her hand clasped over her heart, and my grin stretches wider. I could so get used to hearing her say my name all the time.

"How'd it go?"

She bites her lip and checks over her shoulder, then around the corner, and when she looks back at me, her whole face lights up. "I got the job," she whispers with an excited little shrug of her shoulders, and I have no idea why just because she's so ecstatic, I'm proud _for _her.

I don't even know this girl, so what the hell_ is_ that?

I still can't resist holding my hand up and she gives me a high-five without missing a beat, damn near bouncing on her toes. But then she blows out a breath like a whole bunch of stress and nerves just melted off of her, propping herself against the wall next to me, and I tilt my head.

"Long morning?"

"Kind of," she says, then laughs a little like she's trying perk herself up. "My dad has been all over me to get a job 'so I can learn the value of money and hard work,' so I've been running around like crazy putting in applications everywhere and just…yeah…"

I nod, then feel a smile sneak onto my face. "Still gonna order tonight?"

"Probably. I think my brother would die without his fix. He's addicted to those cinnamon sticks."

"Those aren't for you?" I ask, and she ducks her head, cheeks pink as ever. "Right. Guess I'll see you later."

"Guess so…"

Her eyes flash up to mine, rich brown and caramel sweet. But then her gaze drops to my lips, something in her expression more than a little mischievous, and my cock twitches.

Shit, I gotta get that under control.

"Damon, delivery!" Ric calls out from around the corner and she jumps, standing straight up like she just got in trouble.

"Bye, Elena." I smirk smoothly and push off the wall, walking around her as I head into the kitchen and listening to the front door close behind her a moment later.

"She's cute," Ric says under his breath when I stop next to him at the cutting station, and I clear my throat.

"Interesting observation, coming from you."

"She's also seventeen."

Fucking knew it.

"That right?" I say casually without looking at him, sliding the pizza he just boxed up into the warming bag.

"Yep." He claps me on the shoulder and when I turn to look at him, he pouts at me. "Sorry, man. Looks our fairytales are fundamentally fucked for now."

I glare at him and he grins and walks away, and I curse and yank the warming bag off the shelf.

No shit, Ric, since I'm pretty sure happy endings don't include the guy getting thrown in jail because the girl is underage.

* * *

**A/N: Alright! We ready to get this party rockin'? (In the house...tonight...) (sorry, I'm weird in the morning. and the afternoon. and night. dammit.) ANYWHO, can't wait to hear your responses and I look forward to reading them, I'm off to write one of the future sex scenes! (key words: ONE OF, as in, there will be multiple this time. Don't think I don't hear you ;)) **

**In the meantime, if you're looking for some epic Delena sweetness, check out _In Time We Trust_ by my bestie/beta Trogdor19, or if maybe a little panty-melting smut is more your style, then a must-gobble-up-and-shamelessly-devour is Nightlightbright's new two shot (an epilogue from River Deep, Ocean Wide) called _Forever, Finally._ And if you're an AU/AH enthuse? No worries, I've got one for you too. Head on over to _Fireside_ by somethinprettty, because this tale is gonna be one for the books. Until next time, stay safe and kind to one another, and I'll see you next week! *blows kisses***

**-Goldnox**


	3. Training Temptation

**A/N: *GROUP HUG* What a night we had, my loves. It hurts, it still hurts. It will probably always hurt, although huge props to the cast and crew for a fantastic season finale! Well done all! So, because I am super selfish and still achy from the finale, I'm posting early so I can soak up the love from you guys because you are always so good to me. Ready to meet Elena? Here we go...**

**All my blessings to Trogdor19 on her travels this weekend, and my continuous thanks for her help and support while beta'ing for me. The true measure of a person's beauty and strength is their honesty and integrity, especially when it's hard to deliver and not always appreciated like it should be. You deserve all the best in life and love, and I will always be grateful to have you in my life. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Training Temptation**

Elena runs around the corner into the back of the store, her ponytail flicking out to the side when she screeches to a halt beside the prep table I'm leaning against.

"Am I late?" she asks worriedly, and the corner of my mouth turns up.

I tilt my head and pretend to consider it for a minute, and then I smile at her. "Nope."

"Really?" she asks, excited, because as I've learned, she's a perfectionist with the best of them.

I nod once and then her eyebrow arches, her finger pointing at me as her tone slides into her "Captain's Voice." Too bad she can barely keep a straight face when she does it to me.

"What about you, Salvatore? Were you late today?"

I snicker and shake my head no, and she smiles brightly, placing her hands on her hips.

"You know what that makes us?"

"No idea, Gilbert."

She claps her hands once and hops into some sort of a front lunge, her hands raised high towards the ceiling. "Supa-stars!"

I chuckle, turning back to the prep table as she straightens and tucks in her uniform shirt, which was half hanging out. Girl is a crazy mess of a human being.

I've spent the last two weeks helping to train her since Rebekah is usually too busy with the phones and the chaos in the front of the store, Ric dealing with the cooks and deliveries in the back, and I'm not exactly complaining. Apart from wincing at the drop in my take home because I'm not earning any tips while I'm stuck in the store, although Ric says he's gonna figure something out for me. But I'm happy to help her out because Elena is…she's something else.

I don't know if I've ever met someone with quite so much energy. And an imaginative vocabulary.

The first day she was fairly quiet because she spent her entire shift holed up in Ric's office while watching corporate instructional videos. The ones that sent her running into the walk in like the building was on fire while I was back there grabbing some extra chicken wings. And before the metal door even shut behind her and I could begin to wonder what the hell was going on, she fisted her little hands into the front of my shirt and desperately breathed, "Save me!" before spinning around and running back out a second later.

I had no idea how to respond to that, other than to laugh loudly as soon as I was able to think, and when I came back out of the walk in she was sitting cross-legged in the chair in Ric's office, acting like she was paying attention to the guy on the video animatedly explaining how "We believe that quality should be the first, middle and last word in our industry."

Every day since then she has been a little more extroverted, and with the exception of today, she has been consistently slipping in her thin concept of punctuality. Although each time she's more than thirty seconds late she _then_ spends five minutes apologizing and swearing that she knows it's not fair to make me wait for her. Honestly, I really don't mind since I'm sure it's because she has a daily To Do list that rivals those of the President's aides'.

Elena's a big fan of the game "I'll tell you about my day, that way I can get you to tell me about yours." She is curious about everything I do, and seems oddly fascinated by how I choose to spend my time outside of work since unlike her, I have the freedom to do as I please without a wide range of commitments that pull me in a thousand directions at once. And I'll answer a question or two because it makes her smile, but mostly I'm just my typical quiet self and honestly, it's a relief that she already gets that about me. Because she doesn't seem to mind filling the space from all that fails to come out of my mouth. But the frequent mention of high school life is giving me unpleasant flashbacks to the days of silently roaming the halls alone.

I wasn't ever really big on the whole social scene, especially not after my dad died and it left me in my brother's care. All people saw when they looked at me was a parentless home, a place where they figured they could come over and do whatever they wanted, but being used like that was the last thing I was interested in. So I kept to myself. Haven't changed much since, apart from buddying up with Ric, and I don't see anything wrong with that.

But Elena is about as opposite from me as anyone gets, and she probably has a crowd of people around her when she walks the same halls I used to. People flock to a personality that bright. It's hard not to be enthralled, and even hope that a little of her enthusiasm for everything could possibly rub off on you, although I'm not holding my breath that it's going to change anything about my life because I wouldn't want her schedule for anything.

Busy Bee told me that she starts her A track day at five A.M., that way she can finish up her homework before driving to school and "getting her learn on." She does the same on her B track, but her advanced senior classes are done before ten A.M. and then it's more homework before running over to the community college to take a freshman Intro to Psych class so she can get ahead on her college credits. And then back to the high school she goes, doing her best to wrangle and lead what she calls the Tucson Troupe of Non-Stop Talkers through a few hours of dance practice.

That part she actually does _every _day, regardless of its designated letter, and after she rushes from one commitment to another she's supposed to get here at 5:30 to start her shift. But that usually ends up being closer to 5:40 because of an excuse that she claims is traffic, and_ I_ have a feeling is closer to the drive thru at Taco Bell. Especially since I busted her sitting in her car in the parking lot yesterday, dumping hot sauce all over a burrito while she pointed her finger at me and then rolled down the window with a challenging, "What?"

I threw my hands up in surrender and went back inside, Elena hurrying after me while rattling off in her perfected use of run-on sentences about why it was totally reasonable for her not to want to eat pizza all the time because she needs variety in her life, not that I'd understand seeing as how I would probably eat the same brand of sugarless cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner as long as the picture on the box was that of a chick in a bikini.

I stopped and turned around, clamping my hand down over her mouth; her eyes narrowing in mock irritation as I smiled, then told her to take a breath. She mumbled something into my skin that I didn't catch, but she didn't start back up when I removed my hand and told her that whatever was bothering her, she could let it go for a few hours. That no one expected her to be perfect or to have all the answers, because that was my job. She just had to be here.

She kinda softened a little, her eyelashes sweeping down as she blew out a long, slow exhale.

I chose to capitalize on the moment, taking the opportunity to inspect and scratch in bewilderment at the lip print of glossy sparkles on my palm that wouldn't come off, and when she opened her eyes and saw what I was doing, she burst out laughing, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the sink in the back. She dug some sort of magical makeup remover out of her purse, and while I stood beside her and she gently scrubbed at my skin, she said I was right. That she was being a little crazy but only because her day was a nightmare after doing makeup test runs for an upcoming dance competition and she _hates_ the sparkly lip gloss the team decided on—which explained what was on my palm—plus that she was super stressed about her classes which was all the more frustrating since all she wants to do is dance.

I've known her first name for barely three weeks, we're just starting to develop what I'd risk calling a friendship, and I _know _with every fiber of my beingthatthe only thing in the entire world that she wants to do is dance. Because that's what she _does_.

She wiggles and sashays and swivels her hips through every step she takes, spinning and twirling and half-leaping in the back of the store and down the stretch of space behind the front counter. I think it's hilarious, and kind of nice that she's so passionate about what she wants to do with her future, but it's driving Rebekah crazy and that's a whole other issue I'm dealing with.

I'm trying to keep the peace, but every second that Elena isn't at the store I have been hearing non-stop from Rebekah about how, "Someone needs to tie that girl to a chair and lock her in a closet because there's something wrong with her. _No one_ is that happy and bubbly without a chemical reason and Ric won't discuss the outcome of her drug test but he's not firing her either and it's bullshit. It's all just bullshit."

Nope, sorry, Bex. That's just the way of it when you're getting more bitter every year that you creep closer to twenty-five, while having to look at a fresh faced seventeen-year-old girl who knows this job is only temporary because her life hasn't really started yet. And they'll play nice when they're up front, but I have a feeling that what's really getting on Rebekah's nerves is that the meaner she is to Elena when they're in the back doing prep work, the sweeter Elena is to her.

She gleefully takes every instruction Rebekah hands out, jumping to do the crap she has to know is pretty much just hazing. And even when I told Elena that she's letting Rebekah take advantage of her and she should say something to her about it, Elena's only response was to wink at me and say that you kill 'em with kindness, at least when they're looking.

I made the mistake of asking Elena what she does when they're _not _looking, just to humor her, and she blinked up at me with wide, innocent eyes, and plainly said, "You steal their boyfriend."

My jaw hit the floor, and she held it together for a full three seconds before she became a fit of giggles, calling me a gullible jerk for believing she would ever do that.

The truth, she said, was that eventually Rebekah was going to run out of steam and that she didn't believe in retaliation, only trying to be better than her enemies so that when the chips started to fall, she could hold her head up high and know that she did the right thing.

Not a bad motto. Although it is coming from a kid who has lived one hell of a sheltered and privileged life. And I mean _privileged._

After the glimpse I got of her immaculate foyer, I firmly would've wagered my next paycheck that someone's employing a maid service to do the cleaning at her house. Turns out I would've won that bet too, because my suspicions were fully confirmed the first time I told her that she needed to mop the floor. Instead of my self-confident co-worker standing before me, it was suddenly the girl that fled back through her front door after I busted her watching me walk back to my car at the end of her driveway.

Her cheeks blazed as she ducked her head, and she doesn't get embarrassed often, but when she does it _kills_ me. So I very privately asked if she'd ever mopped before, and when she timidly shook her head and refused to look at me, I playfully tugged on her ponytail and said that it was all good because now she'd be able to add this to her list of skills on her college application.

Her head whipped up, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she mumbled that my mom goes to college. I chuckled and when I conceded that yes, my mom _did_ go to college, but she only got in because _she_ knew how to mop, Elena fully perked back up and asked if I could find out whether mopping was supposed to go on the list before or after her nun chuck skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills…because colleges only wanted applicants that had great skills.

Girl is a ball of sarcastic jokes, and she is always telling me that I'm too quiet and serious and has seemingly made it her life's mission to get me to laugh as often as possible. Something she is very successful at. Sometimes on purpose, others, not so much.

Because after I explained the concept of mopping to her, and then left her to it, I went into the back of the store to wash dishes. And I was elbow deep in pans when all of a sudden, she shrieked my name. A habit she's been getting into whenever she has a problem, even though there's a store full of people that would be more than willing to help her out. But she's also counting on me to take care of her in a way, and I just…whatever.

I ran up to the front to find the color draining from her face, water cascading all over the floor because it turns out she had been paying more attention to the way I was moving the mop while she kept telling me that for a non-dancer, I was surprisingly graceful, instead of listening to the step by step process. Ergo she ended up skipping the squeegee phase, effectively slopping soapy water over the side of the bucket with complete abandon.

I doubled over laughing at her look of horror while she stood there with the mop dangling uselessly in her hands, water steadily seeping towards the stack of cardboard boxes on the floor that housed all our napkins, and the whole thing became ten times funnier when she started giggling while declaring loudly that it wasn't funny. And when I could only respond by breathlessly nodding, she took a menacing step toward me and slipped. I tried to catch her, but Miss Graceful only managed to take me down with her: both of us landing awkwardly on the tile as we laughed our asses off, soaking wet and soapy from head to toe.

Ric immediately came out of his office to see what was so funny, took one look at us, then said he wasn't interested in being sued and if we wanted to play Water Park then we should do it on our day off. Elena called back that there was no reason to be jealous since he was welcome to play with us, and I swear, I about died when I felt heat rising into my cheeks.

I do _not _blush. That shit does not happen. It is reserved for girls like Elena and for thirteen-year-old boys that get their first hard on in class and yeah. Not me. But somewhere between Elena's overly-flirty wink and Ric's knowing smirk, I suddenly felt incredibly guilty for occupying the same breathing space as a girl that is one hundred percent, entirely off limits.

All things considered, I've been doing extremely well with that. I've made my peace that nothing is happening and nor will it, but it's not easy when you have a bright little bubble of doe eyes and her cheery voice making jokes and asking questions about my life and hobbies for hours at a time, like the only reason she comes to work is just to spend time with me. It really, really doesn't help that her uniform requires her to tuck her shirt into tight fitting black pants that show every curve of her hips and all that's below them.

Illegal. Illegal illegal illegal.

That's my mantra and I keep sticking to it.

But she's more than just a hot little body. She's got a range of giggles and chuckles and snickers that crack me up, and I don't remember ever laughing this much while sober. Not to mention her arsenal of ridiculous, crazy faces that she makes to Rebekah's back, and to me whenever she thinks I seem too solemn.

Like the other day when she was supposed to be up front practicing taking orders, but then one of our cooks came in the back where I was and with a smug grin, he told me that Elena sent him because she said she "needed" me.

I glanced up front, just as she peeked around the corner into the kitchen with a giggly, "Damon, watch this!" And then just like she was in _Risky Business_, she skidded slash surfed down the tile beside the front counter while wearing a borrowed pair of sunglasses. Which was made all the better when she couldn't stop and Jesse came through the side door at exactly the right time to send Elena tripping and tumbling outside with a shriek of gibberish curse words.

I think the stitch in my side from laughing lasted a full ten minutes.

She's just…she's fun. And there's no law that says we can't be friends.

Friends that apparently went straight from "Hi, my name is…" to advanced playground antics with skipping a lot of the in-between parts. But we're oddly comfortable together, like we've known each other for longer than we have.

I guess it makes sense. Because I've been delivering to her house every Friday night for the last six months, seeing her in pajamas with no makeup, or when she was flushed and sweaty after coming back from dance practice. It's only now that I'm getting used to her with slick straight hair that's back in a high, crooked ponytail, her olive skin expertly highlighted by the brown and gold eye shadow she wears.

At least she still smells the same: rich mocha and almonds and I've since discovered that it's half lotion, half the massive cup of coffee she always has on hand.

I glance to my right, and Elena's silently popping her hips and grooving to the B-52's coming in over the speakers as she sorts frozen dough next to me. She peeks up and catches me watching her, then starts exaggeratedly mouthing the lyrics and the show just went from an introverted fifteen percent, to a hundred and seventy-five full out production.

She grabs my hand and spins herself out under it as I chuckle, then she twirls back in before pushing off my chest with both hands just as fast before leaping across the back of the store. I w I watch, amused, as she steps up on a bucket, then turns and kicks out dramatically the other way, her whole body arched gracefully back before she hops back down.

"Dance practice too short for you today?" I ask, and she skips back over to where I'm standing before she stops, her expression dead serious.

"Always."

"Alright…" I sigh in mock defeat, and she instantly lights up.

I smile and take her hand, whirling her back out before smoothly curling her back in, her voice an excited squeal of surprise when I dip her without warning. And I can't help but to love eliciting that response from her, but I'm also praying no one comes back here and discovers what we're doing. Especially when we both start theatrically, embarrassingly, getting down and acting out the lyrics of _Dance This Mess Around_, having way more fun than minimum wage should afford.

She shakes and shimmies with gusto; giggling when I air-guitar with expertise; fanning herself when I seductively roll my hips and spine to the beat. And yeah, we're probably getting a little more physically close than what the state of Arizona approves of: our fingers interlocked more often than not, her hands holding mine to her hips when she spins away and leans against me so her back perfectly molds into my chest. But every time I try to slide my body safely away from hers, she turns and teasingly stalks forward, beckoning me with her finger and mouthing the lyrics of, "Why don't you dance with me?"

It's a question I only have one answer for, and as much as I know I shouldn't, I say yes. Every single time.

The song eventually ends, and I do my best to redeem my morals by making an obnoxious buzzer sound.

"And that concludes today's _Soul Train_ episode. Now back to our regularly scheduled prep work." I smile and she baits me with a full on pout, until her cell phone beeps in her back pocket, and she twitches. "Ah-ah-ah," I chide, holding my finger up in a warning.

There are many things she seems to be adjusting to since she started working here. Mopping. Temporary confinement in a building that is way too small for her personality. Detaching from social media seems to be the hardest of them all.

Many times I've noticed her sneaking off to the walk in to tweeter or twatter or whatever that little blue bird is that constantly chirps from her back pocket, and the first time I caught her she wasted no time in smiling and batting her eyelashes at me. And yeah, that time, it totally scored her an extra instapixelgram or whatever it is she does while her fingers fly over that keypad, punching letters and numbers with single-minded importance like she's inputting the code to stop a global meltdown. But it's been two weeks and many lessons learned, plus a tiny bit of de-sensitivity to her crazy gorgeous looks, and it's helping me to keep her in check. Barely.

"Damon!" she whines, and I shake my head slowly. "It could be important! What if there was an asteroid strike—"

"Then we'd be dead."

"Or bears were gonna attack the city or all the fish in the sea turned inside out or the _bees _disappeared—"

"What kind of shitty B movies have you been watching?" I ask curiously, but she doesn't hesitate in her ridiculous proposals.

"Or it could be really, really bad like Bonnie could have fallen off her skateboard and broken her coccyx—"

"Who's_ what_?" I start to laugh and she takes advantage of the opportunity to grab her cell phone out from her back pocket, and I immediately snatch it away from her.

"Thief!" she exclaims and starts jumping up and down, scrabbling for her phone from where I'm holding it above her head and out of her reach. "Gimme back my phone, bashenwaggle!"

"You're a…whatever-you-just-said, and I'll give your phone back on one condition," I tell her, the device that controls her universe steadily vibrating in my hand.

Elena huffs and runs around my side, my head turning as I try to follow her and then the wind gets knocked out of me when she actually jumps on my back. I snort as she wiggles and squirms up my body, trying not to drop her and definitely trying not to think about the fact that her legs are around my waist and her chest is pressed into my spine between my shoulder blades. So not thinking about that at all.

"Release the apparatus, plecksnort!"

"That's it," I growl when Elena knees me in the ribs and elbows me in the back of my head, and I straighten and jostle her up higher on my back so she loses her grip on me.

She squeaks in surprise when I suddenly bend over, ducking my head and shoulder so she tumbles forward, my arms snaking out and catching her just before she hits the ground.

She sucks in a breath when she realizes I've got her cradled against me, one hand supporting her back and the other under her knees, and I playfully jostle her once just for good measure. "You gonna knock that off?"

"Yep," she says quickly, her voice breathless while her cheeks stain pink and her grin grows wider.

"You gonna get to work?"

She nods quickly. "Uh-huh."

"No more cell phones," I tell her sternly, even though she knows I'm just messing around.

"What's a cell phone?"

"Good girl." I set her carefully down and hold her phone out, but I pull it back when her hand snatches out to take it.

She daintily snorts at the fake out and this time when I hold her phone out to her, I let her take it, and she slides it back into her pocket.

"So, boss, what are we doing today?"

"Gah…" I moan dramatically, and she playfully swats at my arm. "First, save that title for Ric, he's the sucker for the ego boost. Second, go pirouette your way into the walk in and grab us some more dough."

"You got it, boss."

"Elena!" I reproach as she elegantly spins towards the walk in, and I shake my head with a smile.

Girl is nuts.

I turn around and go back to sorting the last of the dough we already had out, but my eyebrow quirks when I realize she's been gone for too long. I head towards the walk in, ninety-five percent sure I'm gonna find her glued to that fucking cell phone.

I pull open the door, surprised and pleased to see that she's not texting or photoing or facepaging; she's stretched up on her tippy toes and reaching for a box on a shelf that's too tall for her. I chuckle to myself when she growls and then jumps, slapping her palm against the box and sending it further back out of reach.

"You know, this store is prejudiced against short people," she says grouchily, and I smile, making my way over to her. I reach up and grab the box, and she turns around.

It's only then that I realize that I've effectively got her pinned between me and the racks of shelves, her chest brushing against mine when she sucks in a breath.

"Hi…" she breathes, her eyes sparkling deviously up at me as she bites her lip, and I swallow.

This is such a bad idea.

I've got to get the hell out of this walk in.

"Damon…how old are you?" she asks quietly, and I clear my throat.

"Too old for you to be asking me that," I reply, then step back from her and walk out before I think about how good she smells and how her body fits pressed against mine and…

Wrong.

Wrong and illegal and nope. Not going there.

I set down the box on the prep table and discreetly blow out a breath, Elena coming out a second later and messing with her ponytail.

"Sorry," she says under her breath when she stops beside me, and I shrug.

"No worries." I glance over to smile at her comfortingly, but she won't meet my gaze, her body unnaturally still as her hands slowly sift through ice cold disks. My head tilts as I watch her, a rock sinking in my stomach before I look back to the box in front of us. "I'm just sensitive about my age, is all."

I watch from my peripheral vision as the corner of her lips turns up. "Is that so?"

"You would be too if you had to dye the gray out of your hair once a week."

She nods slowly, her smile growing a little more. "How'd your hip surgery go?"

"Awful," I say and groan. "You know they expect you to miss _Matlock _for that shit?"

A laugh sneaks out of her, and I stand a little straighter. "You should've had your girlfriend record it for you on this newfangled thing called a DVR. They're the bee's knees," she says nonchalantly, but my eyes widen at the neon lack of subtlety of what just came out of her mouth.

I lock my jaw shut.

She shouldn't be asking me these questions. She really shouldn't.

"No girlfriend," I mumble, and I have no fucking clue why the hell I just said that.

All things not good or acceptable will be coming from this conversation.

"That's too bad," she says with a sigh, and I risk a glance at her. "I heard that episode of _Matlock_ was all-time awesome."

She winks at me and I chuckle slightly, bumping my shoulder against hers as we both get back to sorting dough.

"Elena…" Ric says as he comes around the corner, and she jumps with a startled jolt.

"What? I didn't do it," she rushes out all panicked, and I burst out laughing, leaning forward on my hands and my head hanging to hide my grin.

"I could have been coming back here to compliment you," Ric teases, and Elena relaxes a little beside me.

"Oh… Then what did I _possibly_ do?"

"Nothing," he says blandly, and I snort while she kicks at my boot where Ric can't see. "There's someone asking for you."

"Ooh, mysterious," she mock whispers to me, brushing off her hands as she walks around behind me.

I straighten and when I see Ric jerk his head towards the front counter, I arch an eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"Just…come up there with me for a sec."

"Okaaay," I drawl out, both of us about five feet behind Elena when she rounds the corner from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Her voice immediately rings out with a cheerful, "Kol! What are you doing here I thought you weren't coming home for three more weeks and how did you know I was here and why didn't you call and _God,_ I missed you!"

I stop in place and Ric pauses beside me, nudging me with his elbow as we listen to a male voice calling her "angel" and saying something about how his classes got cancelled for a few days so he came back early, and it was her dad who told him where she was and that he called and texted to make sure it was okay that he came by, but she didn't answer her phone.

I look over at Ric and he sighs, then says, "Do me a favor and go grab us a two liter from the front. Whatever you want to drink is fine."

I head to the front and turn the corner, Elena on the customer side of the counter and fully wrapped around some guy. Her mouth is secured to his as he hugs his arms around her waist, lifting her off the floor, and I scoff internally and grab a two liter of some carbonated crap I have no interest in drinking, trying to figure out what my problem is.

What do I care if she's seeing some guy? And all things considered, this is a good development. As long as she's happy it doesn't matter, and again, why do I even have a thought towards the situation when I hardly know her and she's just a co-worker? An underage one at that.

I walk back towards Ric and shove the two liter into his chest harder than I intend before I pivot towards the stack of deliveries waiting to go out. I'm not scheduled to drive while I'm training Elena, but I know Ric won't care if I head out for a while to get some air and space.

My buddy doesn't say anything as I grab four warming bags off the shelf, heading quickly out the side door and straight to my car. Probably because he knows that despite my mind's finger-shaking logic about what is right and wrong and how I know I'm supposed to think and feel, that in truth there are only two words blaring bitterly through my head: fucking figures.

* * *

**A/N: You didn't think I would make it that easy, did you? ;) To be honest, I feel kinda bittersweet about posting this with everything that's been going on in the show, but OUR show must go on in the meantime. And quite a show we have. There have been a few questions about projected length, and I am happy to tell you that this will run approximately the same length as Auto In. Which means we are just scratching the surface, and I hope you stick around! Thanks to all for the outpouring of faves and follows and reviews, and I can't wait to hear what you think about the characters :) Stay safe and be sweet to one another, and I'll see you next week! **

**-Goldnox**


	4. Nowhere To Hide

**A/N: Hey there my darlings! Gah, these once a week updates feel like months in between, ya know? I may have to do something about that ;) **

**All my mushy, fangirly gratuitous thanks to Trogdor19 for always finding time to beta, even if she's in some woodland paradise. Hooker.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Nowhere To Hide**

"You're such an asshole!"

I shut my bedroom door behind me, and I sigh. Good morning, life.

"Stop calling me that," Stefan tells Caroline as I head into the living room, collapsing into my spot on the couch and watching an infuriated Caroline stand with her hands on her hips, her scowl aimed one hundred percent at Stefan who is in the kitchen, trying to escape her current wrath. Not that I blame him for trying.

"I will call you anything I see fit, especially when you're acting like it."

I scrub a hand over my face, then stretch back and pick up the PlayStation controller, turning on the game and pointedly ignoring the weight bench in the corner. I really should have worked out this morning but it's fine, I'll just do it tonight when I got home. I'd rather sweat without an audience anyway. And when I first moved in with them they kept their fights contained to their bedroom, but now it's like I don't even exist and it's out in the open for everyone to see. And I could stay in my room until I have to leave, but I'd hear them anyways. I may as well be out here where at least I have the game to distract me.

"You can be pissed all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm doing this for _you_."

My eyes widen as Caroline sucks in an incredulous breath; the space between them in our shared two bedroom apartment never seeming to be quite enough. Especially not when Stefan ducks out of another one of Caroline's family commitments on a Saturday because he has to work.

"You want to do something for me? Then how about _for once_ you spend some time with me!"

And there it is.

Stefan slams the kitchen cabinet he had open and stomps into the living room, and I dart my eyes away from him and focus on the game in front of me. This kind of drama is why I moved out the first time. Who wants to live in a place where everyone is miserable and fighting? It's stressful and depressing and I don't need it. Life is hard enough without being pulled down by problems that aren't mine. But regardless, this is where I live and as much as I try to stay out of it, I still hear them, and the worst part is that I agree with both aspects of the argument that keeps circling through our minuscule living quarters.

I'm always on Stefan's side, first and foremost. He's my big brother and blood is thicker than water and all that jazz. So when he kills himself at work sixty plus hours a week so he can try to provide for Caroline, even though she has her own job, I respect that. I'd like to think that's what I would do if I were in his position, and more importantly, I get why he_ really_ does it.

Because around the time I was just starting to notice girls, our mom bailed to start a new family with some other guy; one that she deemed had a respectable work ethic. Apparently "Irreconcilable Differences" in her eyes translated to her snotty opinion that our father was a lazy bum since he'd rather spend his weekends in the garage with us than picking up an extra shift or two. Which is bullshit, because especially now that he's gone, I'm glad for every single hour when he and I were covered with grease and elbows deep in an engine, even if that meant dinner was a box of instant rice with a can of overly salty, generic soup poured over it. But I'm not sure Stefan always remembers that Caroline isn't our selfish, money-hungry joke of a mother who we haven't heard a word from since she flipped the bird to our dad and kissed us goodbye.

But either way, the damage is done and my brother is now a workaholic. It doesn't help that over the last couple of years Caroline has been steadily getting itchier about starting a family, but she doesn't want to pull the goalie until they've got a backyard and she makes good money, but my brother makes more. So in turn Stefan works every chance he gets, saving each penny they can in order to put a decent down payment on a house when the time comes. He's literally trying to give her each and every item on her life's Christmas list by the first of May, so I don't get why she's always questioning whether or not he loves her.

I mean, they've been a couple since Junior High and it was one of those things where when they got together, everyone just _knew _that they would always be a pair. And they break up every few years when the fights are happening more often than not, when threats to leave get met with dares, and I hate it. Stefan becomes miserable, Caroline moves out, and life dims a little without her around.

She's like my sister, and she's just…she's Caroline. She keeps track of my keys and phone because I always lose them, and she's one of the few people that doesn't bug me to talk more. We spend hours hanging out in the living room on my days off, me watching TV or playing video games while she quietly reads, and it's comfortable. And I've never looked at her like Stefan does, but I've also always kind of seen myself ending up with someone like her. So when Caroline's not here, I sort of miss her.

At least their separations only last for a couple of days and then it's a reunion that any director of a chick flick would film to make a million bucks off. Life then becomes a nauseating show of their snuggle sessions on the couch and three chairs occupied at the table instead of two, but a few weeks later old habits will rear their ugly head and then it's all tears and slammed doors and enough tension to make anyone insane.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the real reason they haven't gotten married is because they'd then get divorced, and then _re-married_, and it's not worth the hassle to involve lawyers in their wishy-washiness.

The problem is since he works so much in his attempt at being the best thing for her, _I_ end up spending more time with Caroline than Stefan does. Half the time he leaves for the day when it's still dark, and she's usually asleep when he gets home. The person she tells about her day, her excitement or frustration with life? That would be me. But I can't be the one to hold her when she cries, to dance with her when she celebrates. He's the man she loves and as much as she wants the house with the two car garage, what she really wants is _him_. Any time, any day, any way she can get him to stick around.

So it's hard to watch when she gets up early, cooks an elaborate breakfast in the hopes that he'll take fifteen minutes to just eat with her, but then he rushes from their room in a frenzy after hitting the snooze button three times because he's perpetually exhausted. It's hard to hear when he tells her that as much as he appreciates the gesture, he doesn't have time to stay because he's late for work. He'll apologize again and kiss her cheek, and then two seconds later he's out the door with an energy bar and I have to pretend not to hear her sniffle as she hides in the kitchen, staring at a failed attempt to keep him home for just a little bit longer.

It just sucks, all around. And I get why Caroline blows her shit when Stefan constantly bails on plans, but he's my brother and I'll only take so much of someone stepping on him. He's doing the best he can and it's not his fault that his head is fucked up when it comes to his priorities. And I've said something to him once or twice about him trying to spend more time with her, but honestly, it's not my place and what do I really know about it? It's not like I've ever had a relationship that lasted longer than a few dates.

I watch them closely out of my peripheral vision, hoping that I don't have to intervene when Stefan stops starkly in front of Caroline and she lifts her chin. They'll hurl words but never fists, and they love each other like crazy, but the storm clouds have been brewing for months and they're pushing each other too hard, too far. I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little worried that one day soon, someone's gonna snap.

"Caroline," he says seriously, and I shift in my seat at the raw, unflinching strength in his voice. "I love you, and that means the last thing I ever want is to hurt you. I would do _anything_ to make sure that you're happy."

"I know that," she tells him, her voice cracking. "But I can't have a relationship with your voicemail, Stefan. And I'm not with you because I want to spend my life _alone_." She slowly shakes her head in disappointment, and my stomach drops. She's getting ready to push him in a corner, and it never comes out well. _"I won't."_

"Caroline…"

"No! I need you here, Stefan! So what's it going to be?"

Tears begin to stream down her cheeks, and my brother's face falls. He pulls her to him and wraps her in his arms, and a muffled sob breaks free from Caroline as she rests her head on his chest, their hands gripping each other fiercely. Stefan drops a kiss to her hair and then looks at me over her head, and I arch an eyebrow at him. Because I know the next words that are going to come out of his mouth, and Caroline should too, but it doesn't mean that it's not going to hit her like a tsunami.

He drops another kiss to her hair before he pulls away from her, cupping her face in his hands and brushing away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. He touches his forehead to hers and she smiles sadly, still so much faith and hope in her expression, and I wince.

"I love you, but I'm late for work." And he says it gently, but it's no use. Because fury stiffens every muscle in her body and she slaps his hands away.

"Then I hate you," she spits at him before she storms off, slamming their bedroom door closed behind her and leaving Stefan just standing there, his keys in his hand and his brow furrowed.

His eyes close when the sound of Caroline crying reaches us, something I know almost better than he does by now, but I keep my jaw locked closed because he immediately pivots to go after her. But he doesn't make it more than a step when his cell phone starts to ring where it's hooked onto his belt, and he pauses, shaking his head before scrubbing a hand over his face. He pulls it from the holster and checks the screen before he turns and heads back towards the front door, jerking his chin at me in goodbye when he answers the call with, "Hey, boss. Yeah, I'm on my way…"

I sigh and drop my head back onto the cushion as the front door shuts, his boots heavy on the stairs before I hear his truck start and then the diesel engine slowly fades away. I have no idea how he's going to do it: concentrate on work for the next twelve hours, the whole time wondering if he's gonna come back to an empty bedroom and a new relationship status.

Their bedroom door opens a moment later and Caroline comes back out, hesitating when she finds me still here; the corner of my mouth tugging down when I see that her eyes are red, but at least her cheeks are dry.

"Don't you have work?"

"Yeah," I tell her and sit forward, turning off the game I haven't even been paying attention to and tossing down the controller. She nods once and then heads to the kitchen, and I get up and follow her, watching as she pours out the coffee she made that Stefan didn't touch. I clear my throat and she glances at me over her shoulder. "You want me to grab you anything from the store on my way home tonight?"

She turns back to the counter and sniffles, trying to hide the way her eyes just started to water. "I'm not sure yet," she tells me quietly, and I blow out a breath. "I just don't know if—"

"I know," I tell her. "Just let me know, either way."

"Okay."

"And let Stefan know too," I add. "It would really suck if he had to cancel that reservation."

Her head whips around, eyes wide. "What reservation?"

I shrug. "Something about going away for a few days over your anniversary. But I didn't say that." I wink and she turns away again, messing with the coffee pot in front of her.

"He said a few _days_?"

"Maybe…" I drawl out. What he actually said was a week in Vegas, but that's his bomb to drop. "See you later."

I turn and head to my room, grabbing my car keys and wallet where I remembered to leave them for once. And when I come back out, Caroline is sitting at the table, her chin in her hand with her cell phone pressed to her ear.

"I know, Stefan," she says quietly into the phone, then smiles softly at me as I head towards the front door. "I love you too…"

I shut the door behind me, grinning to myself as I make my way down the stairs to my car. Fucker owes me. Maybe I can get him to cover my half of the rent this month.

The short drive to the store goes too fast, like usual, and it's always a challenge to pull in and park and not to keep going: to just leave everything behind and cross the border into Mexico so I can build a life that doesn't include playing peace keeper and devil's advocate in a relationship that I didn't sign up for. Maybe I could find a little hut close to the beach where I can see blue water for miles. And instead of listening to traffic and phones ringing, there would only be the steady, cathartic crashing of waves. It would be all swim trunks and sunglasses after burning my black slacks and itchy uniform shirt, my hands wonderfully full of shot glasses and margaritas instead of carbonated two liters. A guy can dream.

But my flash of a fantasy gets interrupted when the side door to the store opens, Ric poking his head outside and waving at me to come in since I'm just sitting in the parking lot.

I sigh and put my keys in my pocket. At least it's Saturday and I'm gonna spend it on the road since Elena won't be here today.

Because she's probably off with her damn boyfriend.

* * *

I knock on Ric's front door and he opens it with a surprised smile, then it falls a little. "Oh, it's you…"

"Fuck you, dick."

"Sorry, come on in," he tells me and steps aside.

I walk into his apartment, but stop short, my head tilting when I notice that it's _clean_. Like, really, unnaturally clean for how he normally has a few baskets of laundry on his black leather couch and a fair settlement of dust on his mismatched coffee table and entertainment system that he bought off Craigslist.

I look over my shoulder to find my buddy scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and when I arch my eyebrow in a silent taunt, he narrows his eyes at me.

"Shut up," he snaps, then strides into the kitchen with me following behind him.

"So…where'd you meet him?" I drawl as Ric reaches into his fridge and pulls out a couple of beers, twisting the tops off and handing me one.

"Why are you even here? Wait, let me guess: you went home after work to find Stefan and Caroline having World War III again?"

I tilt my beer at his correct assessment, then take a swig.

I glance over at his stove, shocked to see that he's _cooking._ I smile and can't resist peeking under the lid of the pot, trying not to snort at the spaghetti sauce he's burning. Although it probably couldn't hurt it because twenty bucks says it came out of a can with a picture of a tomato on the front.

I place the lid back on the sauce, then turn and face a scowling Ric, clearing my throat pointedly while trying to rein in my grin.

"Alright!" he bursts out like he's guilty, and I chuckle. "His name is Elijah and I met him a few days ago at Home Depot and he's gonna be here any minute."

I bite my cheeks against the laugh that wants to tumble out of me at seeing the heat rising up Ric's neck, and I take another sip of my beer before I set it down on the counter beside me.

I give him a single nod before I turn to go, and Ric sighs, his boots heavy on the linoleum of the kitchen as he follows after me.

"I'm not kicking you out, Damon."

I pivot and raise an eyebrow at him, my grin wider than ever. "No offense, but I'm not about becoming the other piece of bread in this sandwich."

"Oh, fuck you," he bites off. "Look, Elijah's cool but…I don't know." Ric shakes his head and my brow furrows. "He's a little _too_ right, if you know what I mean." Nope, no idea what that means. Ric rolls his eyes at me. "Just stay and eat dinner with us, and make sure this guy doesn't murder me or something, okay?"

I shrug and go back to the kitchen. "Fine, but we're ordering something else to eat because _this_?" I say and pick up the pot of sauce, then pour it out into the sink. "This is guaranteed to get you murdered if you try to feed it to a guy you actually like."

"Thanks, man," Ric deadpans. "Rub it in how much I suck at this."

I pick up my beer and take another drink, then set it back down and start digging through the drawer in Ric's kitchen where he keeps the stack of delivery menus. I find the one I'm looking for and turn around, leaning against the counter as I scan the trifold of paper. "Give me your debit card," I tell Ric and he chuckles, then pulls it out of his wallet and hands it to me while I dial the number on my cell phone. He snatches the menu out of my other hand, then shakes his head with a grin.

"Hot wings? I thought you were trying to help me get laid?"

"Every man in the world likes hot wings," I tell him seriously. "And the spicier the buffalo sauce, the quicker I'll be officiating your civil ceremony. Mark my words."

* * *

"Thank you, very much, for dinner," Elijah says sincerely and wipes his mouth with a napkin, Ric smiling a little more to himself than normal as I chuckle and chug the rest of my beer.

Yeah, the hot wings were a hit.

And good for Ric, because Elijah's not a bad dude. He's a little straight laced, and kinda uppity—based on his suit—but he quickly ditched his jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his pristine white buttondown, digging into a stack of buffalo wings with the same amount of gusto as the stained-undershirt-wearing bums that normally ingest this stuff. Myself and Ric excluded.

But Elijah's made a few jokes that had both me and Ric choking from laughter, which is surprising for a guy that looks like he has his oil changed at the dealership and probably spends just as much time at the dentist getting his teeth whitened as he does at his gym, all while carrying a briefcase with a designer label. But that is exactly Ric's preferred mix of clean cut, good looking, successful and masculine while being just a _little _bit soft. Which if I was on their team wouldn't be my taste, but for my buddy? Elijah's crossing off boxes on the Mr. Perfect checklist pretty damn quick.

Apparently they met when Elijah was staring dumbfounded at an aisle of garage door openers, openly clueless about how to install one at his condo, and ever the Good Samaritan, Ric was happy to lend a hand. And I have no desire to know how literal any part of that story actually ended up being. But whatever, because they keep smiling at each other across the table and Ric looks like he's got a sunburn if you're judging by his neck, and it's just about the time when I head out so they can play the traditional dating game of, "I know it's a long drive back to your place and you're welcome to stay…if you want…"

Honestly, I have no idea what made Ric so uneasy that he asked me to chaperone.

"You're very welcome," he tells Elijah, and I stretch my arms above my head with an obvious yawn.

Ric glances at me and I flare my eyes at him, then get up and start gathering my plate and all our trash.

"Here, Damon, let me help you out with that," Elijah says and stands, Ric jumping to his feet a second later.

"We got this." He winks at Elijah. "Why don't you go make yourself comfortable in the living room and we'll be there in a second."

"Are you sure? I don't mind..."

"I'm sure," Ric tells him, a tone to his voice that is so not for my ears to hear and I turn away, carrying our stuff into the kitchen. "You want another beer?"

"Sounds great," Elijah tells him and yep, I gotta go.

Ric stops beside me as I'm rinsing off the plates in the sink, and he nudges me with his elbow. I discreetly hold my fist out between us, and after he bumps it with his own, I clear my throat.

"Probably gonna head out," I say quietly, and he nods.

"Cool. See you at work."

He startles and I look at him as he digs his phone out of his back pocket, then scowls at the screen.

"Shit," he mumbles. "It's Jenna. Can you…?"

"No problem," I agree and he claps me on the shoulder, then goes to peek around the corner into the living room.

"Elijah, my sister is calling and I'm sorry, I gotta take this. I'll just be a minute…"

"Take your time," Elijah tells him and then Ric is heading down the side hall towards his bedroom, his phone already pressed to his ear.

I shake my head. His younger sister is a tornado of chaos, and she consistently calls Ric in a mess of tears at the craziest hours so he can talk her through whatever crisis she's having from a flat tire to guys dumping her, basically each and every drop of milk she spills. And the not-funny, but still hilarious part of it all? She's a professional life coach.

Some things in this world I will never be able to explain.

I finish rinsing the dishes and grab a couple of beers out of the fridge, taking one to Elijah who thanks me as I set the other unopened one on the coffee table so Ric has one when he comes back. I sit down comfortably in the recliner, absently watching the baseball game Elijah turned on.

I really, really hope Stefan and Caroline aren't still gonna be fighting by the time I get home. Or loudly making up…

Yeah, I need to get my own place. Like, yesterday.

"So," Elijah says from his seat on the couch, and I glance at him. "You and Ric been friends a while?"

"A while," I confirm, going back to watching the game and yawning in earnest this time.

"Long day?" Elijah asks softly, and I shrug.

"Full," I tell him and he laughs a little, then from the corner of my eye I see him set his beer down on the coffee table. He shifts on the couch and turns fractionally towards me, and my eyebrow twitches.

"Damon…" he says and I swallow, something off in the quiet seriousness of his voice. "I hope this isn't too forward, and Ric's a great guy, but would it be alright if I called you sometime?"

What. The. Fuck.

He did not just say that shit.

I look over and Elijah's got his hands folded in front of him, his gaze trained directly at me as the corner of his mouth pulls up and _Christ_, do I want to beat the grin off this guy.

I check the hall and Ric's still nowhere in sight, and I lean a little closer over to Elijah, dropping my voice menacingly. "First of all, _no. _And second,_ fuck no_. And third, feel free to get your shit and get out. This little dinner date is officially done."

He sucks in a breath and recoils a little. "Whoa, Damon, hold on…"

"Are you fucking kidding me here?" I hiss. "You're on a date with my best friend, in his _apartment_, and you're gonna hit on me?"

He shakes his head, then shrugs. "The time and place was inappropriate, I agree, but sometimes it's worth it to take a risk…"

"You're an asshole, and for your information, I'm straight."

"Look, I'm sorry if I misread some signals here—"

"When Ric comes back you tell _him_ that you're sorry, and that you've gotta go."

"Damon…"

I ignore him and get up in a furious rush, then go back into the kitchen, blowing out a breath as I open the refrigerator. I grab a beer and start guzzling it, just swallowing the last bit as Ric comes back out of his room. He tilts his head at me and then breezes right into the living room.

"So sorry that took so long," I hear him say, and I wince.

"Actually," Elijah starts and clears his throat, "I apologize, but something's come up and I really should be going."

Yeah, get out, dick.

"Oh," Ric says, disappointed, and I loudly toss my empty beer bottle into the sink so it crashes and clangs jarringly. I don't even care if it broke, I'll clean it up later.

"Thanks again for dinner," Elijah says and I roll my eyes. "I had a good time."

I grab another beer from the refrigerator, my blood boiling when I hear Ric discreetly tell Elijah that he'll call him later before a heavy pause, and then the front door opens and shuts.

Ric immediately comes into the kitchen, looking pissed as all hell when he leans against the doorjamb. "You want to tell me what that was about?" he snaps, and I shake my head with a shrug. "What did you say to him?"

"You _cannot_ date this guy," I say with all the seriousness I feel towards the matter, and Ric scoffs.

"I'll date whoever I want. And you can leave too."

"Dammit, Ric! You told me to stay because you thought there was something off about him. Well…there was, and as your friend, I'm telling you: let this guy go." I pause and take a breath, trying to calm down. "He's not worth the bullshit he's gonna put you through, buddy. Believe me."

Ric's brow furrows, his arms crossed as he studies me.

Then he swallows and shifts his weight, crossing one ankle over the other, and silently, I'm praying.

Ric's luck with men is about as bad as it gets, and he always seems to get hooked up with guys that try to use him, manipulate him, change him. And if Elijah is gonna sway off course on their second date, God only knows the shit he would pull later on down the line. And no one deserves that, least of all my best friend.

"You're serious?" Ric finally asks a minute later, and I lean back against the counter across from him.

I nod and Ric's head hangs for a second, then he straightens and scrubs a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry, man. I wouldn't say this if I—"

"No, I know," he agrees, but he sounds so frustrated and I hate that I'm the one who had to deliver the blow. "Gimme a beer, would you?"

I pass him my open one and he takes it quickly, tossing back the rest of the amber liquid. He finishes it off, then curses to himself as he throws it away. I follow behind him as he goes into the living room and flops on the couch in defeat, and I sit beside him, propping my feet up on the coffee table beside his, both of our ankles crossed.

He doesn't say anything for a long time, his eyes on the baseball game but his mind probably elsewhere, and I don't understand why people can't show some semblance of decency. Everyone has to have more money, tighter abs, better _everything_, and it's bullshit.

I suddenly find myself hoping with everything I have that the guy I've been super maturely mentally cursing for the last few days—the one who has the privilege of calling Elena his girlfriend—is a good guy. Because God help me, if someone in my small world can't pull off a healthy relationship, I may just say screw it and join a monastery.

"Damon?" Ric says quietly, and I drop my head back onto the cushion behind us.

"Hmm."

"You know, life would be a lot easier for both of us if you would just cut the straight act and admit that you're secretly in love with me."

I smile, then reach forward and grab the unopened beer on the coffee table. I twist off the top and take a long pull as I sit back, then pass the bottle to Ric.

"Honey, you say that now, but you wouldn't be able to handle me in the sack."

Ric snorts a laugh and takes a drink, then groans and lightly rests his head against my shoulder. My eyebrow quirks because he doesn't ever do that stuff, except when he's really drunk and his boundaries get a little blurred, but I'm not gonna say anything about it tonight.

"Fuck love," he grumbles and passes me the beer, and I close my eyes as I let my head fall back onto the cushion again.

You said it, buddy, and I couldn't agree more.

* * *

**A/N: I may be having way too much fun writing this fic. And I say that all the time, but having fun is a good thing! It earns us future chapters with an obscene amount of flirty behavior and some mind melting sexual tension, and yeah...got lots in store for you! LOTS! So don't forget to hit those buttons because you never know when early/surprise updates may start bursting out of me: getting a bit restless, and a fair bit ahead... ;) Take care of one another, and I'll see you soon!**

**-Goldnox**


	5. False Philosophies

**A/N: HI! *waves* How about a surprise update because it's raining? Sounds like a plan :) Cannot thank you guys enough for all your continued love in your reviews, really means all the world to me! And to all of you who started asking for a temp slash fic, y'all crack me up! **

**Thanks thanks and more thanks to Trogdor19 for beta'ing in the most dangerous and awesome contraption ever captured on camera, and for not slaying me yesterday. You're such a better sport than I am lol**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: False Philosophies**

I blow in through the side door of the store, my stomach growling and temper flaring, but my irritation at the douche who almost ran me off the road disappears when I notice the clock on the wall, and it's five after midnight.

Ladies and gentlemen, you can all officially fuck off.

"Tell me there aren't any last minutes deliveries," I beg Elena, and she doesn't even look up from where she's leaning against the front counter, her weight braced on her elbows with the cap of her pen caught between her teeth as she studies some piece of paper.

"Hmm."

I roll my eyes, walking around the corner and tossing down the warming bags, relieved to see the delivery rack delightfully empty.

I head back up front and stop by the register, and she doesn't move, apparently failing to remember that she needs to cash me out.

I clear my throat again, louder, and Elena finally looks up.

"Sorry," she tells me when she comes over, and I hand her the receipt as she pops open the cash drawer.

Rebekah released the Head CSR reins to Elena tonight, and she left about an hour ago with a strict threat for me to make sure the "newbie" didn't screw up balancing the register. And Elena's been strangely quiet all night, but I don't know if she's just stressed about closing the front on her own for the first time or if there was another lip gloss argument at dance practice or what it is. But something is definitely on her mind.

My gaze follows my suspicion as it wanders down the counter while she checks over the receipt, and I lay the coupon down on top of the stack of twenties in the drawer. I slide past her, picking up the piece of paper she had been staring at when I came in and my eyes widen with my smile as I look it over: the words in the top corner a neatly printed, "Elena Gilbert / AP Human Geography" before seeing where she titled it "The Gentrification of Detroit following its Deindustrialization: Pioneers or Oppressors?"

"Holy shit…" I breathe as I scan over what she thinks about the changes occurring in Motor City, what she would suggest if she were to have control over the fate of the neighborhoods, her argument laid out and proficiently debated and _Jesus Christ_, who knew the Prima Ballerina could probably run for Mayor up there?

"Damon!" she screeches from behind me and I glance over my shoulder, my smile growing when I hold her essay above me so it's out of her reach when she lunges for it.

"Did you know you misspelled 'Fascist despot'?"

"What? I did not write that!" she retorts as she continues scrabbling for her paper. "And if you rip that I'll…I'll…"

"Use your words," I taunt and dart past her, vaulting over the counter.

"You farfendoogle!"

I hold the essay over the counter towards her, then yank it back before she can grasp it. "Trade you for my tip," I tell her and she pauses, her arm hovering towards me in mid-snatch as her brow furrows.

"Huh?"

"Money, from the delivery," I say and she narrows her eyes at me, but there's also a devious gleam to them that I am _not_ supposed to like so much.

She suddenly produces a five dollar bill, pillowed between the pads of her fingers. "Deal."

I grin smugly, dangling her essay like the mature adult I am, but at least I'm not alone in my childish antics. Because Elena immediately begins counting out a measured, "One, two…three!" before she seizes her homework from my hand at the same time as I steal the money from her. "You're such a jerk," she says, playfully batting at my shoulder as I hop back over the counter.

"I _am_ a jerk," I concede as she goes to tuck her paper into her backpack. "And as such, I am going to go make us some jerk food because I'm starving. You eaten yet?"

"Nope," she says, and then turns around and points her finger at me. "No anchovies," she warns and I lean forward, whispering conspiratorially.

"Despot."

She chuckles and shakes her head. "You—"

"Damon," Ric says sharply from behind me and when I pivot to look at him, he looks pissed. "I need to talk to you. _Now_."

He doesn't wait for me to respond before he heads back towards his office, and I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

"Go," Elena says quietly, and when I glance at her, she jerks her chin towards the back of the store. "I've got to start on the register anyways."

She smiles comfortingly before walking over to the register, and I make my way towards Ric's office, leaning against the doorframe of the closet-sized room. I swallow thickly when I see his scowl, wondering if this is gonna be the moment when he finally fires me.

"Guess who I just got off the phone with?" he asks, and I shrug. "Elijah."

My eyes widen. After their date a few weeks ago, Ric and I got hammered on the couch and I listened to his long and slurred explanation of why he was going to bow out of the romance derby for a while. And as far as I know, he stuck to his resolution because he hasn't mentioned anyone new since then. So why he's talking to Elijah, I haven't a clue.

Although, now that I think about it, it wouldn't be that big of a shock if Ric's giving him another chance because I never actually told him why I warned him off the prick, and he didn't push the issue. But based on his expression I'm suddenly thinking that my decision to keep quiet may not have been a bright one.

"He called me to apologize," Ric says and I scoff. "He also said to extend his apology to you because he realized what a dick move it was to ask you out that night, and he didn't want to cause problems between us."

"Elijah used the word 'dick'?" I ask, a little surprised at the verbiage, and Ric takes a menacing step toward me.

"I'm paraphrasing," he growls and I hold my hands up in surrender, even though I'm not exactly sure why I'm the asshole here. It's not like I did anything wrong. "Why didn't you tell me?" Ric hisses and yeah, talk about suddenly feeling like the gunk at the bottom of the grease trap.

But what was I supposed to say? _"Hey, you know the guy you like? Well, he said he thinks you're great and all, but the person he really wants is me. So…pass the buffalo sauce?"_

Yeah, I don't think so.

"You didn't need to know," I tell him quietly, and he huffs and turns around.

I keep my mouth shut as he shuffles some papers on his desk, then he leans forward, his weight braced on his hands.

"Next time, tell me."

"I told you—"

"No," he snaps, straightening as he turns to glare at me. "You didn't."

I clear my throat and Ric shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I expect the lying bullshit from other guys. I don't expect it from you."

"I didn't lie to you," I counter, and he tilts his head at me. "Fine, it was a lie of omission if you _really _want to take it that far."

He narrows his eyes at me, and I shift my weight.

"What is it that you want me to say?"

"You could apologize, dick."

I blow out a breath. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks." He smiles tightly. "Don't do that shit again."

"My bad," I tell him, and he nods. "So…anything else you wanna yell at me about while I'm back here?" I test, seeing if I can get him to lighten up a bit before he flips out on anyone else because I pissed him off. Especially since he's gonna have to check Elena's register before she leaves and _no one_ gets it right the first time. "I can break the dishwasher, maybe leave a few buckets of sauce out overnight if you want?"

He cracks half a grin, then lets it fall like he hopes I didn't notice.

"Get back to work and then get out of here."

"You got it." I push off the doorframe, strolling casually into the kitchen even though there's a knot in my chest.

Ric is one of the best guys I know: he gave me a job when I needed one despite barely knowing me, and he lets me crash at his place when I can't stomach my apartment. He's also never said anything about how he's usually the one to pull me out of my funks when I crawl into myself. He doesn't deserve me lying to him, no matter how well intentioned.

I swallow and try to shove down my guilt as I wash my hands, then pull on some clear plastic gloves and grab a pan of dough from the refrigerator beside the make table. I breathe slowly, evenly, letting my mind go blank as I stretch the dough and ladle sauce, sprinkling cheese with muscle memory movements. My fingers are numb with apathy as I layer sliced tomatoes and mushrooms, my eyes glazing over while I rain down black olives and chunks of pre-cooked chicken, and by the time I reach for the container containing the slivers of bell peppers, my whole body is painlessly cold.

"Hey," a gentle voice says from my left and when I look, Elena is standing beside me. I don't even remember hearing her come in the kitchen. She tilts her head and then wrinkles her nose adorably in a wordless tease, and the corner of my lips pulls up. I reach past her, grabbing a single slice of pepperoni. And when I hand it to her, she takes it with a softly uttered, "Thank you," before popping it in her mouth and moaning appreciatively like it's the best thing she's ever eaten.

"Just a few more minutes," I tell her, and she groans.

"I didn't even realize how hungry I was until you said something earlier…"

I smile a little and start adding the bell peppers, then pause when I realize what a disheveled mess everything else is. I begin straightening and evening out the toppings, expecting Elena to go back up front, but she doesn't, and then her voice starts back up.

"I hate fighting with Kol…" she mutters and my eyebrow rises. "And it's not like we fight all the time or anything, but when he left for school—he's a year older than I am so he graduated last June—it just made everything harder, you know?"

I glance down at her and she's got her back to the make table, just kinda staring off into space at the rest of the kitchen behind me.

"I mean, when he was here we were always together, but now he's busy with classes and I have school and dance practice and work, and lately it seems like before I even know it, a _week _will have gone by since I've heard his voice. Apart from the recording on his voicemail."

I keep my jaw locked, my hands continuing to make our pizza while my mind is completely lost as to why she's telling me this. There has to be a long list of contacts in her cellphone of people she could talk to, but if she needs to vent, I guess that's fine. Not that I _want_ to hear about her problems with her boyfriend since I'd rather assume she's counting down the days to her happily ever after, but I'm also not going to tell her to take it somewhere else if she's upset. I've already filled my asshole quota for the day.

She sighs, and out of the corner of my vision I see her turn her head like she's looking at me. "But I'm lucky. I have really good friends who let me whine about life and love when I need to, and it helps. So…if you ever need someone to talk to, Damon, I'm happy to lend an ear."

"Talk about what?" I ask as I slide the pizza into the oven, and she daintily clears her throat.

"Your fight with Ric."

My eyes widen as I turn to face her, pulling off the gloves and throwing them away.

"I know it's not my business," she says quietly, "but I kinda overheard him getting upset with you. And I think it's really sweet that you didn't go for that other guy, that you stayed faithful in the face of temptation. If he was…you know…tempting you or whatever," she trails off, and my jaw drops as my comprehension of what she's suggesting clicks into place. "Yeah, I shouldn't have said anything," she mutters and turns to leave, and I snap into motion, gently taking her by the elbow and leading her towards the walk in.

She looks up at me in alarm as I nudge her inside and shut the door behind us, then I blow out a breath.

"You think I'm gay?" I ask bluntly, and the color completely drains from her face. She squeaks like she has no idea what to say, and I'm right there with her. I cross my arms, my head tilted curiously. "Why would you assume that?"

"I don't know!" she bursts out, and I throw a hand up in exasperation.

"Well you must have had a reason..."

She opens her mouth a few times, but no words come out.

I huff and scrub a hand over my face, trying to calm down. It's not her fault that my night has been one fucked up conversation after another, and she's stressed enough as it is without me going off on her for a stupid misunderstanding. No matter how frustrating it is.

"We're friends, right?" I ask her calmly, and she nods. "Then as my friend, would you please explain what it is about me that screams 'I'm Into Men' because…" I grit my teeth, then make myself admit it. "This isn't the first time this has happened."

She sucks in a breath and ducks her head, her cheeks steadily getting redder. I half expect her to bolt, but then I realize I'm accidentally blocking the door like an overbearing jerk and I shift away from it. But she doesn't move to leave, and after a minute she says almost inaudibly, "Guys like you are always gay."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Damon…"

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" she volleys back. Then her voice becomes one long steady string that I have a hard time keeping up with when she rattles off, "You're really good looking, with the jet black hair and perfect skin and your crazy light-blue eyes that most people would commit murder for, and you obviously work out because judging by your forearms alone, twenty Snickers bars says you've got a set of abs under that shirt that would start a rush sale on caskets if you flashed them at a senior citizen's pool. Not to mention that you're just really _sweet_, like all the time, and you're a good listener and a surprisingly good dancer and you always smell amazing, and if you don't have a girlfriend then there's no hope for women in the universe because you could have any girl that you wanted but never once have I caught you staring at my ass or boobs and so as conceited as that is, in my experience that usually equals gay."

She stops as quickly as she started, then her face suddenly flushes like she just realized all that came out of her mouth, and I can't help but to smile a little.

She thinks I smell good? How is that even possible when I always smell like pizza? And I'm gonna try as hard as possible not to focus on the fact that she apparently thinks I'm hot.

"Yeah, excuse me while I go die now…" she mumbles, and I try to hold it in, but I just _can't_ and I burst out laughing. "Damon, it's not funny!"

"You're right," I admit, trying to catch my breath. "And apart from being confused over whether to be flattered or just monumentally offended at how you've been unapologetically stereotyping people…"

She swats at my arm and I chuckle.

"I just want to make sure that we're clear," I continue. "I am not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but…no."

She bites her lip and shifts her weight, glancing down.

"What?"

"Nothing," she murmurs and I roll my eyes.

"Elena, just say it already because I don't think this conversation can get any weirder."

She peeks up at me, and somehow, I already know what she's going to ask. Because she's got the same look in her eyes as when she asked me how old I was. But it doesn't make it any less awkward when she shrugs and says, "So, are you single then?"

I clear my throat, and even though I shouldn't answer her, I nod.

"Why?" she asks like it's the most absurd thing in the world, and I lean against one of the racks beside us.

"Look, I see women occasionally, but…" Christ, this is so fucked up. I should not be discussing this with her, much less anybody, besides maybe Ric. But my filter has made it known that it has no functioning capability around Elena, and it blares that fact when I hear myself saying, "I'm not into using people for sex, or interested in being used _by_ them. I've got enough drama in my life without adding that to the mix, so right now…yeah, I'm single."

Her face and shoulders kinda melt, then she shakes her head. "I don't get it," she says and lightly laughs. "I mean, all the guys I've ever known, all they think about is how to get a girl into bed."

The corner of my mouth turns up. "Don't get me wrong, Elena. I'm still a guy."

Her cheeks blaze and she looks away, glancing at everything else in here except for me as she tries to hide her smile, her arms crossing tightly over her chest against the cold.

It takes her a minute after that before she gets the courage to speak again, and when she does, it completely shocks me.

"I'm really sorry, Damon. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, if I ever did, because I had the wrong idea."

I tilt my head, no idea what she's talking about.

"I just mean, I've been really…_physical_ with you lately," she says and heat rushes up the back of my neck because yeah, that's one hell of an understatement. Girl has shown no issues with personal boundaries or reservations about touching me, and now I know why.

Although, the reasoning behind it kind of sucks since she thought she was safe from me liking it.

The thought weighs me down like a five-ton boulder and wow, guess who feels like he just snuck into the girl's locker room under the pretense of bringing them fresh towels?

Christ, I'm an oblivious asshole sometimes.

I clear my throat, my voice dropping on its own. "You don't have to apologize, Elena. It's my fault and besides, it's not like I was being tortured or held against my will or anything."

She bites her lip, her eyes daring to meet mine. "Can I tell you something? Unless it's weird…" I wave my hand in a gesture for her to continue because she's covered in goosebumps and I need to get her someplace warmer before she develops frostbite or pneumonia. And maybe it's the freezing temperature that's killing her inhibitions, but I don't know where she gets the guts to say, "I've really liked dancing with you. It's been a lot of fun."

"Ditto," I agree, and we'll add that to the list of massive understatements, sliding firmly into spot number two. Because we dance _a lot_, just messing around in the spare moments when she's not on the phone and I'm back from a delivery, getting each other to laugh with however ridiculous we feel like being. And sometimes, just taking a second to slow down in the midst of chaos. It's kind of become our thing.

But it's also been making life a little more difficult, because I've grown accustomed to the feel of her fingers linked with mine, the weight of her palm on my shoulder, the curve of her waist and how my hand can fill the entire small of her back.

And those aren't things I should know.

"Look, Elena," I start, and her brow furrows, "we're friends and that's great, but maybe we should try to take it a little easy with the other stuff, for your boyfriend's sake."

She sucks in a breath and takes a small step back from me. "Oh my God!" she gasps. "You're _straight_ and we've been…" She shakes her head furiously. "I have a _boyfriend_, Damon…"

I nod. "I know you do," I say seriously. "And I don't see him being okay with what's been going on around here. Although if he was to find out, you'd be welcome to blame me because age issues aside, I should've cooled all this down when I first found out about him." I clear my throat uncomfortably. "I don't mess around with other guy's girlfriends, Elena."

She nods a little and then covers her face with her hands, but at least she pulls them away a second later under the pretense of tucking her perpetually loose baby hairs behind her ears. "You're right," she whispers as she hugs her arms around herself, her eyes pinching closed. "I've been practically cheating on him and I didn't even realize and _I'm so sorry, _Damon…"

"Hey, slow down there," I rush out when the first few tears begin to slide down her cheeks, and I risk a step towards her, hooking a finger under her chin and tilting her face up to me.

Pain slices through my chest when she opens her eyes: those sweet mocha irises now onyx black as they glisten up at me, and never in my life have I hated seeing someone cry as much as I hate this.

"You didn't do anything wrong," I promise her, and she nods but it's not convincing in the least. "We just had some wires crossed is all. And in a few years, you're gonna look back on this and think it's nothing short of hilarious."

A breath rushes out of her that is halfway between a laugh and a sob, and it wrecks me. It just absolutely wrecks me.

And yeah, talk about inappropriate, but I know a girl that needs to be held when I see one and I decide to say fuck it one last time, and I pull her into me. She doesn't hesitate either, her arms hugging me around my waist as she rests her head on my chest, her body locking into mine with a click I'm already familiar with, despite the fact that I shouldn't be.

I close my eyes in regret when I feel how shaky her breaths are, but they soon start to calm under the small circles my thumb traces over her spine, my other hand pulling through her ponytail as I rest my cheek to her hair. And before long, the rise of her chest matches mine, the sound of her sniffles fading into resigned silence.

"You give good hugs," she murmurs and I smile, squeezing her gently.

"Quite an anomaly, seeing as how they don't happen that often."

She takes a deep breath, turning her face fractionally more into my shirt for just a moment before her hold on me loosens, and then without a world, we step away from one another.

I don't say anything as she wipes at her face, and when she's finished, I offer her a small smile and she returns it timidly.

I jerk my chin at her. "You're gonna freeze to death if we stay in this walk in much longer. Besides, I promised you dinner." I wink and she laughs a little, nodding.

I turn and open the door, but I pause when she says my name questioningly.

I glance back at her, and she tilts her head. "Are you _sure_ you're not gay?"

I chuckle, then nod. "I'm sure."

She blows out a breath like she's disappointed, then ducks under my arm where I'm holding open the door of the walk in.

"That kinda sucks," she mutters, and my eyebrow arches as I follow after her.

Sucks for who?

* * *

**A/N: Okay kiddos, rec time! Trogalicious aka Trogdor19 has a new post Ssn 5 Finale fic up called _Peace_, and you should all go read it! RIGHT MEOW! It's angsty as fuck and I cried and cried and then cooed and sniffled and it's fabulous. Also, don't forget to check into _Fireside_ by Somethinprettty (that's three T's *wink*) because she is also awesome and I know what's gonna happen! (beta life is a good life) And when you've read and reviewed and still need things to do, feel free to head over to_ ask dot fm / asliceofgold_ and fire away your questions at me. (There's a link on my profile and on my twitter acct_ AT_ asliceofgold). Other than that, stay safe and be sweet and I'll see y'all unicorns laterz! **

**-Goldnox**


	6. Duck and Cover

**A/N: YOU GUYS ARE SO SUPER AWESOME!**

**All my gushy mushy swoony love for Trogdor19, the best beta and friend known to man. Even if she sends me emails about duck rape. It's a thing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Duck and Cover**

"I'm out!" I call to Ric, then grab four warming bags off the rack because it's Friday and we're busy like always, and I hurriedly head out the side door. Only to be greeted by the sight of a blue BMW X6 sitting parked on the far side of the lot.

I chuckle and shake my head, opening my passenger side door and placing the bags on the seat. When I'm finished I pull out my cell phone to check the time, and it's 5:47. She needs to change her schedule to start at six if she's gonna be late every day.

I walk around my hood to get in and go, but when I glance back at Elena's car, I pause; the angle from here painting a whole other view. Because looking through her back window I can now see that she isn't sitting with a foil-wrapped burrito in her hand, getting down to the music on her stereo as she eats. Instead, her hands are at the legally suggested ten and two, her body slumped forward as she rests her forehead on the leather steering wheel, and I burst into motion.

I'm across the parking lot before I ever remember thinking to move, and when I get to her door, she's crying uncontrollably. I knock once on her window and she jumps and sits up, her eyes red and huge as I pull open her door.

"Are you hurt?" I burst out, looking her over, but she seems uninjured and the car looks fine so she couldn't have been in a wreck.

"Damon?"

"What's going on?" I ask quickly, and she bites her lip as she shakes her head. "Did someone hurt you?"

A sob wrenches from between her lips, but she still shakes her head no.

"Is it school? Dance? Your parents? What?"

"Kol and I broke up," she whispers, and I deflate, leaning against the side of her open door.

I don't know much about her boyfriend other than they've been together for a while—at least a year from what I've gathered—and that it's been hard on her to deal with the stress of her senior year without having him here to support her. And I have no idea what could have transpired to reduce my bubbly friend into the heartbroken mess in front of me, but it sure doesn't look like this was her idea or mutual in any way.

"Elena…"

"I'm fine," she says strongly, swiping at her eyes before turning in her seat to grab her purse and backpack.

I clear my throat. "When did this happen?"

"Like ten minutes ago," she says, her voice cracking, and I wince. "I've got to get to inside, I'm late enough as it is and Ric is gonna fire me any day now and I just…" She cuts off and shakes her head, her shoulders trembling and yeah, I have no idea how she's going to cheerfully take pizza orders when she's this upset.

"Come on," I tell her and take her hand, helping her out of the car before I shut her door.

"What are you doing?" she asks warily when I walk her towards my car, but I don't answer as I open the passenger door and shift the warming bags into the back seat, then motion for her to get in. "Damon, I can't—"

"It's fine, just get in and I'll take care of Ric."

Her bottom lip quivers and after a moment, she nods, then slides in the seat. I gently shut the door and blow out a breath, going back into the store through the side door.

"I thought you left?" Ric asks when he sees me, and I jerk my head towards his office. He thankfully follows me back there, not looking for an explanation until he shuts the door behind us. "Okay, so what's the crisis?"

"Elena's in my car," I tell him, and his eyes widen.

"Am I old enough to be hearing this? And shouldn't she be on the phones?" He checks his watch and I clear my throat.

"She should be, but she's crying like someone just murdered a bunch of puppies and she can't be up front right now."

"What's wrong?"

"Something about breaking up with her boyfriend, I don't know," I tell him, and he sighs, crossing his arms. "Which brings me to the favor I'm gonna ask."

He scrubs a hand over his face. "You want me to let her take the night off, don't you?"

"Not exactly. Just let her hang with me though. Say she's shadowing me as a driver or something if Rebekah complains."

"Damon…"

"It's one night, it's not that busy and you can pull Tyler off the road if necessary. He sucks anyway," I tell him, and Ric points at me.

"Just tonight."

"Thanks, man," I say sincerely, clapping him on the shoulder before I head out of his office and stride speedily through the kitchen, stiff arming the side door on my way outside.

I hurry around to my door and get in my car, and when I spare a glance at Elena, her arms are hugged around herself as she stares out the window.

"Am I fired?" she asks quietly, and I shake my head.

"Nope. I'm training you to be a driver in case you ever decide to escape Rebekah, so you're with me."

She looks at me, her eyes wide in shock as I start my car, and I risk a small smile at her before backing out of my parking space and turning onto the road.

"You didn't have to do that," she says, and I shrug.

"No worries, I could use the company. And a navigator."

"Damon, I can't—"

"Do me a favor and reach into the back, grab the receipt from the bag on top and there's a map in the glove box. If we end up in Georgia, it's on you." I smirk at her and she sniffles, wiping at her eyes again before she nods.

And I hope she doesn't notice that I'm already two turns into our first destination before she figures out where we are, but when she locates us on the map she doesn't say anything about the fact that I obviously know where we're going, she just softly directs me the rest of the way. And thank Christ for spur of the moment ideas, because by the time she gets us through the next few back roads and a windy maze of a neighborhood, her eyes are finally starting to dry.

"You coming or staying?" I ask when I stop beside the driveway of the house, and she balks a little.

"Staying."

I nod once and grab the bag from the backseat, then make my way towards the door. And I'll admit, when I ring the doorbell I'm half praying that the douchebag she's been dating is on the other side so I can tell him with my fists exactly what I think about him making Elena cry like that. But it's just a mom with kids yelling in the background as she nudges a dog back into the house, and two minutes later I'm back down the driveway and getting in my car.

Elena is still mostly quiet after that, right turns and left turns being all that comes out of her mouth until I get back from my last front door. And I fully expect that she'd rather just stay silent as we begin making our way back to the store, but instead she surprises me with a question.

"So, how did you end up being a delivery driver?"

I peek over and her feet are on the seat, her arms hugged around her legs and her cheek resting on her knees, and with the way her eyes are still red and puffy, I'd probably answer anything to keep her from crying again. I'm not even going to say anything about her shoes being on my upholstery.

"I was very very broke, and I basically begged Ric for a job. He took pity on me, and here I am."

"If you could do anything else for work, what would you do?" she asks, her voice a little crackly, and I shrug.

"Dunno. I _like_ driving. I'd rather be in my car than anywhere else."

I risk another glance at her, and something in me aches at seeing her mouth tugged down. I'm used to her smile and her laughs more than anything else, and she's usually so bright and strong, but everything about her seems so young and fragile right now.

That's when I realize I was her age when this car became mine.

"My dad," I start and clear my throat, "he and I were pretty close. Good guy, real good guy, and we worked on this car every weekend. He left it to me in his will."

She sucks in a breath, and I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me, why I just told her that. She probably needs stories about villages of koala bears being miraculously saved from a monster volcano by the herculean efforts of the Peace Corps, not my angsty sob story which is only going to make someone as compassionate as Elena feel even worse.

I am such an ass.

"When did he die?" she asks gently, and I bite the inside of my cheeks. If she starts crying again because of this, I'm going to flay myself on rusty barbed wire. "I'm sorry, Damon, you don't have to—"

"Seventeen," I answer, my eyes glued to the road. "I was seventeen."

"God," she whispers. "I can't imagine losing my dad right now. That must've been awful for you."

"It…I wasn't…" I trail off and shake my head. "I um, I have an older brother. Stefan. He and I share a place with his girlfriend, and it's good." I look over at Elena, and she's just watching me. "I've still got family left," I tell her, and she seems a bit more comforted at hearing that. Thank God.

"So, not that it's any of my business," she starts, and my eyebrow arches, "but isn't this car kind of a classic to be driving all the time?"

I chuckle. "You sound just like Stefan. You been conspiring with my brother?" I tease, getting a small smile out of her.

"Maybe," she drawls, and I nod.

"Promise you won't tell on me?" I stage whisper, and she nods. "You're right. It is too much of a classic and I should probably store it, but…"

"It'd be like burying your dad all over again?" she says plainly, and I look at her, shocked. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she mumbles, and it takes me a second to pull it together.

"Elena," I breathe, then lightly laugh in pure awe. "I think you just explained something to me that I haven't been able to put my finger on for four years." I shake my head. "It probably would've taken me a lifetime of therapy to put that together. I mean…_Jesus_," I mutter.

"I'm sorry," she says again, regretfully, and my brow furrows.

"I'm trying to thank you. I'm sucking at it," I concede. "But all the same, thanks."

"No, I'm…I'm sorry for your loss, Damon."

I swallow and pull into the parking lot of the store, Elena not saying anything else when we park and I turn off the car. I've never known how to respond to people saying that. And I can't help but to think that she's so sweet to feel bad about me losing my dad when she's sitting there freshly heartbroken.

"Okay," I say and clear my throat, reaching into the back to grab the empty warming bags. "Now for the really exciting part of our evening."

"You're gonna make me mop again, aren't you?" she asks, and I can't help but to grin.

"Let's go get paid," I say and flare my eyes, getting out of the car.

I make my way around to the passenger side, but by the time I get there, Elena already has the door open and is halfway out of the car. She startles a bit when she sees me, and yeah, it's a little awkward because she has to know I was going to open it for her. But then she shuts the door with a blush and I smirk, holding one of my hands up in surrender with the warming bags dangling from my other. I step back and turn towards the side door of the store, Elena shaking her head with a timid smile when I hold it open for her.

"I win this round," I whisper and she breathes a laugh, walking inside.

"Good, you're back," Ric says with a relieved sigh when he sees us. "I've got four that need to be there yesterday because I pulled Tyler off the road and…oh hey, Elena," he says, his voice going from irritated to disarmingly gentle in a blink. "Anyway, get cashed out and back on the road. Like five minutes ago," he growls at me and I roll my eyes, then steer Elena towards the cash register; her shoulders sagging guiltily when we find Rebekah, April and Tyler struggling to juggle the phones.

"I can cash us out, Rebekah's busy," Elena says softly, but when she takes a step towards the register, I pinch the back of her shirt and pull her back beside me.

"No can do," I tell her. "We're not allowed to touch the goodie box."

"What? Why?"

"Because," Rebekah says when she comes over, popping open the cash register. "Drivers cheat."

Elena sucks in a breath, and a light bulb explodes in my head.

"I'm, um, I'm gonna wait in the car," Elena mumbles and then she's stomping outside.

Fucking fuck fuck _fuck_.

"What's her problem?" Rebekah asks, and it takes me a second before I shake my head absently. "Whatever," she mutters, going back to the phones while I go to the rack, pulling off as many deliveries as possible.

I head back out to the car to find new tears painting Elena's cheeks, and I'm swamped by protectiveness and a whole bunch of pissed the hell off. And I keep my jaw locked shut as I get us back on the road, listening to Elena's sniffles beside me, until I can't hold it in anymore.

"So…" I start casually, and she doesn't look at me, but I keep going anyway. "Is he in town?"

She nods her yes.

"Do you want to go dump a whole bunch of parmesan cheese in his gas tank?"

I glance to my right, and Elena shakes her head, still staring out the passenger side window.

I blow out a breath. "What about in the car of the _other_ girl?"

Elena's head whips towards me. "You know?" she asks brokenly, and I nod. "Great," she deadpans. "Is it just that completely obvious that he would cheat on me because I apparently suck?"

"Hey," I scold, and she turns away from me. "You _know_ that's bullshit. Guys are fucking stupid and people make mistakes, Elena."

"Oh yeah?" she snaps, turning to glare at me as she crosses her arms. "Well the only mistake he thinks he made was that he got caught!"

I wince and look away, pulling to a stop beside the driveway of the first house on the list. I don't say anything else as I grab the delivery from the back seat, dropping it off and coming back to find Elena sitting dead still, staring at her hands in her lap and trying to be discreet as she wipes at her face.

I know damn well that she's hurting and I'm supposed to be her friend, and I owe her better than this. But I don't know what else to do or say, so I start the car, pulling away and heading towards the next stop. And she stays silent for a minute or two, but when we're a few miles down the road, she whispers, "I went over to his house after practice…"

I shake my head. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay," she says, then brokenly gives me the rundown as I drive, having to pause every few sentences when she gets overwhelmed.

And the whole thing is super fucked up. Apparently he came home early this weekend to surprise her because he hasn't been back in over a month, and she went straight to his house after school. He hadn't even gotten up to ditch his and Elena's freshly used condom when his phone went off with a text from another girl. Five minutes of shady behavior and dodging and deflecting later, the truth came out: he's been sleeping with Texty, the same girl that he's been claiming for months that he was "just friends with." Cut to Elena having to _get dressed_ while yelling that they were over, barreling out of his room and house and heading right to work, where I found her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, wiping at her face again and turning away from me as I stop at the next delivery. "I don't mean to be dumping this all over you, crying and everything."

"Elena, every guy hates it when women cry. But you've kinda earned it."

She nods dejectedly, and I sigh.

"I'll be right back," I tell her gently, and she nods again.

I run the food up to the door, and when I get back, Elena is curled up on the passenger seat and apparently just trusting that I know where I'm going since the map is now lying on the floorboard. I know she has to be exhausted after starting her day so early and then school and dance practice, and then the massive catastrophe, so I keep the radio low and crack the window, and when I check on her after a few minutes, her eyes are closed and she's asleep against the passenger side door.

The last thing I want to do is wake her, so I avoid all speed bumps and take care to be as gentle as possible with the brake when we pause at red lights, but when I stop at the next house, the engine cutting off wakes her up anyway.

"Hey there," I say softly, reaching into the back seat as she rubs at her eyes, then she sits up like a shot.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I fell asleep!"

"You're right. You're fired," I deadpan, and she rolls her eyes at me. I tilt my head. "You sure you don't want to ring one doorbell?"

"I don't know, Damon…"

"Too bad," I tell her lightly, then get out of the car. She waits this time as I walk around to her side, and when I open the door for her, she gets out hesitantly.

"I'm not sure I can do this…"

"Sure you can," I tell her, then hand her the warming bag. "You ring the bell, they give you money and you hand them the stuff, and then we book it."

She bites her lip, and I steer her towards the door.

"I'm right behind you," I whisper, and she nods.

She takes a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, and when the door opens a moment later, the guy's eyes widen a little when he sees Elena, greeting her with a kind, "Good evening, young lady." But then his gaze narrows at me standing behind her.

"_She's training,"_ I mouth at him, and he smiles back at her.

I grin and cross my arms as she handles the exchange, my eyebrow arching when I watch him hand her a ten dollar bill as a tip before telling her to have a good night. He subtly nods at me and I didn't pay that much attention to his address, but I'm gonna take another peek at it since this guy is getting a rush order the next time he calls in. Because Elena's walk is fifty pounds lighter all the way back to the car, sliding back in the passenger seat and smiling at me before saying, "What are you waiting for? Let's go do the next one."

And we do. Without a word of objection she runs the next two up to their respective front doors, me standing behind her proudly as she earns smiles and a fair amount of cash for her effort.

"See?" I tell her when we're on our way back to the store. "You could do this, no problem. And you'd bank so much cruising around in that little BMW that you'd never even have to go to college."

"Don't tempt me. You think you love driving your car?" she says, and then shakes her head at me. "I love _my _car. And my dad and K…" She clears her throat. "Anyways, my dad is always whining about me driving it manually when I can drive it as an automatic, but it's just not the same, you know?"

"Wait," I say seriously, "you have the option between an automatic and a manual transmission, and you shift?"

"Mm-hmm. You just bump the stick over and it changes the settings on the transmission. I mean, it's not like I have a clutch or anything, but still."

"That is bad ass," I mutter. "How much horsepower do you have in that thing anyway?"

She arches an eyebrow at me haughtily. "More than you."

"Bullshit," I challenge, and she grins.

"450."

"Fuck!"

She bursts out laughing, and I pull into the store and park.

"Don't be jealous," she says with a fake pout when I open her door, and I hand her the receipts.

"Just…go get us cashed out." I glance over at her parked car and huff, shutting the passenger door to mine a little harshly while she heads towards the side door of the building. "Four hundred and fifty," I mumble, and she smacks my stomach on her way past me while I hold open the door to the store.

I head into the kitchen and drop off the empty warming bags, jerking my chin at Ric as I pivot and begin pulling more deliveries off the rack.

"I should let you take her with you more often," he says from behind me. "You work a lot harder."

"Hilarious," I tell him, then it's back out the side door, Elena right on my heels.

She walks around to the passenger side and I whistle, then dig my car keys out of my pocket and toss them to her. She catches them, her eyes wide.

"I can't…I'm not…"

"Stop sputtering and open the door for me so we can go."

She side-eyes me as she walks around to the driver's side, and when she opens the door, I set the bags in the back before smirking at her, then stroll around the rear bumper.

"Damon…"

I wink at her and get in, stretching back and lacing my hands behind my head in the passenger seat.

"Are you sure?" she asks hesitantly when she closes the driver's door. "I mean, this car is a classic and I'm not that used to driving with a clutch and this car means a lot to you…"

"Pizza's getting cold," I tell her, then pick up the map off the floorboard. "Besides, you think you're the only one who gets to nap on the job?"

She sighs and adjusts the seat and mirrors before putting the key in the ignition, and I hold my breath when she starts the engine, but for all her protesting she doesn't stall it once and she shifts cleanly like she's been doing this forever. I'll admit, it's nice being able to just relax as she drives, and I direct her to where we're going but other than that, we just listen to the wind and the growl of my V8 like it's trying to prove that it's just as cool as hers, despite the difference in respective ages.

When we get to the first stop she asks if she can try one on her own, and after that she takes the rest of the deliveries up to the front doors while I watch from the passenger seat. Another hour later she's practically a pro, and girl is gonna put me out of a job.

"That was the last one," she says when she slides back in the car, tossing the empty warming bag in the backseat and stretching her hands above her head with a yawn.

"Want me to drive?" I ask, and she shakes her head no.

"I'm okay, unless you _want_ to drive."

I chuckle. "It's fine, Elena. But we gotta stop and get some gas before we go back."

She nods and starts the car, then looks over at me. "There's nothing like that sound," she says and I smile, because the rumble of this engine has carried me through many a tough night; times when I would trade anything to get my dad back. Sometimes, I can hear his voice when I redline it, like his cigar-tinged raspiness is coming in through the cylinders as he gives me the comforting advice he always had on hand, perpetually laced with a dark humor that only he could pull off.

I absently wonder if he's talking to Elena tonight.

I shake the thought from my head when she pulls up and stops outside the gas pump, and we both get out of the car.

"Get her started, I'm gonna grab some stuff from inside. You want anything?"

"You're really going to make me pump gas into _your_ car?" she says, a little prissily, and I snort.

"You drive it, you put gas in it. Them's the rules."

And I almost call her Princess, but I change my mind at the last moment.

"Now who is spoiled?" she teases, and I curtsy like a moron because it makes her smile.

I head inside and pay for the gas, a Coke and a loaf of bread, and when I come back out, Elena is leaning against the side of my car.

I swallow and go stand beside her, passing her the soda. And she takes it with a polite, "Thanks," but then tilts her head curiously when she sees the bread. "What is that for?"

"Our last stop," I say covertly, and she arches an eyebrow, but then wordlessly hands me the keys with a smile before getting back in the car.

She's all snuggled up comfortably in the passenger seat when I get back in, and it takes me a minute to adjust everything to the way it was before, Elena blushing a little when I have to scoot the seat back because she's so much shorter. And she's quiet on the way to our destination, unknown thoughts just drifting through her mind as I drive, until I stop the car and she glances around curiously.

"Where are we?" she asks, her brow furrowed in confusion at the lack of houses, and I smile.

"Hideaway." I toss her the loaf of bread and get out, then go around the hood to open her door, taking her hand as I help her out. "Don't fall. It's a little steep and kinda slippery," I warn her, and she nods.

I keep her with me, both of us carefully making our way down the slope that's only lit by moonlight and stars, Elena sucking in a breath when she sees the night sky reflecting off the pond of water.

"We're gonna get a little dirty, but you'll get over it," I tell her and she snorts, but doesn't hesitate to sit down beside me at the edge of the water.

I take the loaf of bread and open it, then hand her a few pieces. She stares at them and I roll my eyes, then break off a few chunks and toss them into the water.

Nothing happens, and she nudges me with her elbow.

"Whatever this is, it's nice, but I think it's a bust."

"Hush," I tell her, then loudly quack.

She bursts out laughing, but it doesn't take long before sleepy ducks and ducklings come out from wherever they were nesting, beginning to waddle their way towards the water. Elena gasps when she sees them, and I break off a chunk of bread from the slice she's holding in her hands, tossing it over to one of the ducks.

"I take it back," she says breathlessly. "So not a bust."

I nod once, and for ten minutes we sit and feed the flat footed little dudes. I tell her how I used to come here a lot with my mom and Stefan when I was a kid, and then later after my dad died because I read somewhere that it's supposed to relieve stress. Which sounds crazy, but it works.

And I don't mean for it to happen, but something about what I say breaks her down, her quiet stillness beside me soon transitioning into her knees being hugged into her chest, her shoulders shaking as her cheeks start to glisten under new tears.

She looks over at me, her bottom lip trembling and her ponytail crooked and I just can't take it anymore. I pull her into me, my arm around her shoulders as she lays her head on my shoulder, her whole tiny frame just quivering like crazy.

"I don't get it, Damon," she whispers, her voice breaking between sniffles. "I don't know what I did wrong, why I wasn't good enough for him…"

I shake my head, holding her a little tighter. "Elena, I can't tell you what he was thinking, but if Kol has half a brain he is always going to regret losing you."

"It _hurts_," she chokes out, and I wince, laying my cheek to her hair.

"I know," I tell her softly, then try to perk my tone up for her. "But if today has taught us anything, it's that you're great when you're on your own."

She sniffles and clears her throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, tonight you have earned merit badges in navigating, tip earning, driving a finicky forty-year-old manual transmission _and_ successfully feeding non-nocturnal animals at _midnight_. Pretty bad ass in my book."

Her shoulders bounce a little against me, but I think it was a silent laugh. At least, I hope it was.

"Damon, whoever it was that told you that you're funny? I hate to say this, but they lied."

"Oh, I am _so_ funny," I tease. "What do ducks like to eat with their soup?"

"Don't say it…" she warns, and I grin proudly.

"Quackers."

She groans, her voice still thick from crying. "Dear Lord, that is horrible."

"Yep," I say and squeeze her a little more securely. And I swear with everything in me, that little shit who broke her heart better be hauling ass out of town at this exact moment or he and I are going to have a big fucking problem.

Especially when her little fist curls into my shirt as she scoots closer, hiding her face in my chest, and I wrap my other arm around her so she feels as safe as possible.

"It sure is," I repeat softly.

* * *

**A/N: Help a little? ;) Hope you guys enjoyed, can't wait to hear your thoughts! See you sometime next week *cough* and until then, stay safe and be kind to one another!**

**-Goldnox**


	7. Crests and Chasms

**A/N: *waves excitedly* Hi y'all! You guys are so amazingly good to me, it's just unreal. Can't thank you enough for all your encouragement, it really really helps, more than you know. Especially since parts of this story have just not gone...well, nearly as easily as I would like them to. Sometimes, chapters have to be revised many times. Sometimes, your beta is so smart that you want to slay her because she has a really good idea that makes you have to rewrite a certain section like 8 times. Okay, maybe it was 4 times but IT FELT LIKE 8, DAMMIT! *cough* Anywho, I love Trogdor19 so much and you guys are gonna love her even more for her brilliance in making this story the best it could possibly be, and we both love you all like crazy! (I'm in a gushy mood, sue me :) *BIG HUGS***

**Enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 7: Crests and Chasms**

My body is a peaceful kind of numb like I injected Novocain straight into my bloodstream, and as much as I know I shouldn't do this, it's a bad habit.

When I was in the waiting room at the hospital after I found my dad collapsed in the garage, I couldn't stomach the _everything_. The fear, the guilt, the regrets and the anger and the unbelievable pain at seeing the strongest man I've ever known lying helpless on the ground. So I blocked it. I closed my eyes and let a blanket of detachment run over me like water from my shower head, losing the sounds of phones ringing and monitors beeping until it all became one endless, monotonous buzzing that didn't mean anything because I wasn't there.

If I don't exist, I can't hurt.

But the problem is that I can't hold it long enough, and when sight and sound and sensation and emotion come back, they explode in a vengeance at their fury of being locked away. It's all too loud, too bright, too raw and my world spins until I can find something still and steady to hold onto so I can lock down and fight through the battering until it dissipates.

It freaks Caroline out. She says it's like I go temporarily catatonic because it'll take her five minutes to get me to respond when I go deep, and when I come out of it, I'll blink at her for another minute or two before I realize where I am and what's happening. But as long as she keeps talking, I'm cool. Voices are always the first thing to come back. Not sure why.

And I try not to do it around other people because it's weird, I know it is, but sometimes it just happens. Like when Matt and Tyler tried to fuck with me once by saying that someone stole my car while I was in the back of the store washing dishes. I ran outside to find the SS sitting safely in its spot, and after Ric bitched them out for being stupid and told them to get back on the road, he and I leaned against the side of the building while I stared at the red paint, trying to be discreet about the fact that I wasn't able to catch my breath and I couldn't help it.

I went deep.

I can't lose the last tie to the man that gave me life, a home and my hair color and a garage full of tools that really were an indirect guide for how to live. The man who passed the socket wrench and then stood back and watched, saying it was imperative to know when to lead and when to follow. The one who pulled me out of my room at two in the morning when I was cramming for a test and smacked me upside the head with my baseball glove before making me go in the backyard with him, proclaiming that _yes_, I needed to make smarter choices but to also not forget that sometimes, it's important to be rash. The man that told me to remember that there is no love without respect.

And that memory is what is pulling me down toward the familiar abyss as I sit on my couch after running a few miles this morning and spending some quality time with my weight bench; my fingers starting to slow over the red PlayStation controller while Caroline reads on the opposite end of the sofa before we both have to leave for work.

Respect.

Because the prick that screwed over Elena has one massive set of balls. It took a day or two after they split before she really perked back up to her standard operating level, and then the fucker had the nerve to call her. I know because I was with her when it happened.

We were up front and I was messing with her about how she spent more time that night choreographing and plotting out the arrangements for a new routine than she did on her Economics homework, and while she was halfway through one of her bantering made-up-word/curse-me-out sessions, her cell phone lit up from where it was secretly tucked under a napkin by the register. It only took a second for her expression to downgrade from giggly to decidedly angry after she peeked at the name on the screen, and I couldn't resist my scowl either.

She answered the call with a snippy, "What do you want, Kol?" and when I turned to go into the kitchen to give her some privacy, she snagged my shirt and waved me off like I didn't need to go. So I leaned on the counter beside her, keeping my jaw locked shut as she told him to stop calling, to stop texting, that she appreciated that he was sorry but she was over it and he needed to respect that. And then she hung up on him.

A few more days later and she was all bright and cheery, until I came back from a delivery to find her frantic and humiliated because Kol had the gall to show up at the store and make a scene. Ric said he and Jesse ran him off after threatening to call the cops if he didn't stop harassing Elena because she obviously wasn't interested, and it took Elena another ten minutes to convince me that going after him to make sure he got the fucking message was a bad idea.

She says she hasn't heard from him since, but I don't trust that he's not going to keep finding ways to bring her down when she least expects it. And she doesn't need this shit. She's got her fall finals coming up and her big winter dance recital thing and I swear, I don't think she's getting more than three hours of sleep per night because I've caught her nodding off while she was up front at least twice. Girl needs a break and some fun, not a cheating ex-boyfriend that steals her smile. One that I've gotten particularly good at calling to the surface when she needs it because she's too sweet to be made to feel miserable by a little douchebag who has no concept of how she should be treated.

But the frustrating truth of the universe, the label on the bottom of the jar that reads "Do Not Turn Upside Down," is that the worst people always seem to get their hooks in the best. And not only can I not do anything about it, but I'm not supposed to care enough about her to _want _to do anything.

Except, I do.

Shuffle, slip, and down we go…

"Damon!" Caroline shouts and my head snaps up, and I realize I've been staring at the PlayStation controller in my hands, the game just idling on the menu screen since the race is over and has been for probably ten minutes while I zoned out. I test my jaw and flex my fingers and toes, and it hurts, sensation burning back through my limbs like my whole body fell asleep at once. I pinch my eyes shut and count backwards from ten until the tingling disappears, listening to Caroline sigh and tell me that it's not healthy to shut out the world like this.

I blow out a breath and reopen my eyes, glancing over to my left at Caroline with a smile so she'll stop looking at me like I'm broken.

"What's going on with you?" she asks, concerned, and I shrug. "You've been disappearing like that more and more lately…"

I look away and clear my throat and she deflates a little, closing her book.

"Look, you've never been a particularly wordy guy and I get that, but could you please just give me like a one sentence summary of what you were thinking about so I know I don't need to call the Department of Mental Health?"

I turn off the game because if I don't leave now I'm going to be late for work, and I set the controller down on the coffee table, not looking at Caroline when I say, "A girl. You seen my keys?" I glance around but they're not anywhere in my current spectrum of visibility, and I really need to get a better system for this shit. I get up and turn back around, pulling up the corner of the couch cushions to see if maybe they fell out of my pocket, but nope.

"In the bathroom by the sink, and what do you mean 'a girl'?"

"Why are they in the bathroom?" I ask as I straighten, and she rolls her eyes at me.

"I don't know, Damon, that's just where I saw them last. Who is the girl?"

"Just someone I work with, it's no big deal." I head into the bathroom, picking up my car keys and when I come back out, Caroline's got her arms and legs crossed, her eyes dancing like she's desperate to say something.

I arch my eyebrow at her, and after she hurls a throw pillow at me her voice explodes into an excited, "You mean to tell me I've been flipping between worried and confused for _weeks and weeks _because you've been acting all happy and chattery one minute, and then all quiet and bothered the next, and this is about a _girl_? Why didn't you _tell me_ you're seeing someone and more importantly, when do _I_ get to meet her?"

I shake my head. "It's not like that," I tell Caroline, grabbing my cell phone and wallet off the side table and sliding them into my pocket.

"Sure it isn't," she teases, and I roll my eyes. "Ah-ha!"

I chuckle. "Seriously, _no_. For a very long list of reasons."

"Such as?"

I scrub a hand over my face.

"Well, could the fact that it's _not_ like that be the reason behind you going into more of your Let's-Scare-Caroline trances?"

I huff a laugh and shake my head. "Everything's fine. See you later."

"Party pooper," she grumbles with an affectionate smile, and I head out the front door and downstairs to my car.

Everyone at the store has been pulling the same shit too, constantly making quips about me and Elena being together and it's ridiculous. I guess the concept of male/female friends being _only_ friends doesn't exist anymore? Whatever.

And like clockwork, as soon as Elena gets to the store for her shift a few hours later, Jesse comes in the back where I'm cutting more vegetables for the night and tells me that my girlfriend was shockingly on time for once.

Real nice, asshole. And her arrival time has been getting…better. It's not great, but it's better.

"Someone save me! I'm surrounded by turfensnockers!" Elena suddenly calls out from the kitchen, and Jesse snorts and turns to go back up front. I scowl when I hear him tell Elena that her favorite brand of hero is currently chopping onions, and I toss down the knife, reaching for the box of tomatoes.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure the cumulative maturity level of our entire staff could be rivaled by a sixth grader.

"What's cookin', punk?" Elena asks as she strolls around the corner, smiling brightly before she wrinkles her nose at the pile of chopped onions in front of me. "How can you cut those without crying?"

I snort. "Must be my wizard powers. _That_ and how I'm inherently cruel and don't give a shit about the feelings of vegetables that deserve to be slayed."

She giggles and moves around behind me, but instead of going to the walk in like I expect, I suddenly feel her forehead and then the base of her hands like they're curled under her chin, and then her whole upper body is tucked into my back like she's snuggling between my shoulder blades.

"Why is it always so cold in here?"

I shake my head and when she whimpers pitifully a second later, I take off one of my gloves and pull my car keys out of my pocket, holding them up between my fingers. She reaches around and seizes them immediately, then heads out of the store through the back door. Another minute and Elena is back, sashaying around the corner from the kitchen to where I'm still cutting vegetables at the prep table, but she's now twirling toward me while wearing my black Tool hoodie with the red kangaroo front pocket that I bought at a concert years ago and keep in my car. The one that she's been hijacking every day since the temperature dropped outside.

"You're such a wimp," I say with a chuckle, and she lightly smacks my shoulder before pulling on gloves while standing next to me. "What's your poison?"

"Hmm…bell peppers. No, _mushrooms_. No seeds."

"Gah, lazy on top of everything else," I tease with a wink, then place the box of mushrooms I already washed in front of her.

"I am not lazy! I am like, the unlaziest person ever."

"And so humble," I add, and she rolls her eyes at me with a humoring smile.

"So guess what?" she rattles off excitedly, and I can practically feel the energy pouring out of her.

"You…discovered that professionally playing Dungeons and Dragons was the best possible way to spend your future and you're giving up dancing?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second,_ and_ I got an A on my English paper."

I nod approvingly. "Nicely done."

She shrugs one shoulder. "Thanks. Couldn't have done it without your help."

"So does that mean you actually told Mr. Mustache that you think _Zoolander_ was the best interpretation of Beowulf to date?"

She has some wild theory about how the modeling walk off between Owen Wilson and Ben Stiller in that movie was the equivalent of Beowulf's fight with Grendel, and argued with me for an entire hour about how Ben Stiller's character's "Magnum" look was the magic sword that slayed Grendel's mother, aka Will Ferrell as Mugatu, and the whole concept behind the comparison is just completely nuts. And kinda crazy cute.

"Oh my God, _yes_! And he totally got it and thought that my conclusion on the destructive power of pride was brilliant _and_ he agreed that Beowulf totally deserved to bite it in the end after facing the dragon because he still had his head up his keister, but that 'Magnum' was too amazing to be lost forever which was why Ben Stiller got to live and have a baby with what's-her-face."

"Elena!" I burst out, shocked, and she tilts her head at me.

"What?"

"Tell me you did not seriously use _Zoolander_ in your paper on comparative literary analysis."

"Gotcha." She winks, and I can't help but to chuckle. She is _crazy_. "No, but I really did tell Mr. Monroe about my theory after I turned in the essay, which was all standard and boring Beowulf comp-contra Gilgamesh, and—you'll love this—you know what that man said to me?"

"That you must have a DeLorean in your garage because how you find the time to watch these crappy movies is a mystery _only_ to be rivaled by wondering about the amount of glitter the prop department went through while filming _Legend_?"

She points at me threateningly. "Don't even get me started on Tom Cruise sparkling like the North Star, although that movie has without a doubt the coolest makeup for the son of Satan that's ever been committed to film. But, _Damon_," she says and takes a frustrated breath like someone else blew out her birthday candles, "he said that he had never seen _Zoolander_!"

I gasp mockingly. "The horror!"

"I know!" she exclaims in earnest and then huffs, turning back to her box of mushrooms. She's quiet for a moment while she slices vegetables beside me, then peeks up at me and smiles softly, her voice back to her normal speed and volume when she says, "How was your day?"

I shrug. "Good. Oh, check this out," I remember and turn towards her, setting down the knife and pulling off my gloves. "Okay, you ready?"

"Yep," she says brightly, then nods.

I clap my hands once and rub them together, then squint at her.

"What?"

"You just have a little…" I mumble, then lightly scratch behind her ear and she blushes and giggles.

"That tickles."

"Nope, it's…it's still there," I mutter, my brow furrowed as she squirms and squeals while I lightly tickle my fingertips over her the skin behind her earlobe, then follow her hairline across the back of her neck while she ducks her head and wiggles like crazy.

"Damon!"

"What _is_ that?" I say seriously, then with a loud, "Got it!" I let her go, and when she straightens and flips her ponytail back, her eyes pop.

"How did you do that?" She gapes at the sight of me holding up her driver's license, which I pulled from my pocket while she was too busy laughing to notice, and I grin.

"Magic," I drawl, and she snatches her license out of my hand.

"Seriously? How—"

"Maybe _someone_ left it up here yesterday after swearing that she had the most atrocious license picture ever taken, and then forgot to put it back in her wallet because she was too busy pouting about coming in last place in the Bad Photo Tournament. And I still say you getting all upset was nothing more than an act, because you never had any chance of winning and you knew that to begin with. You just wanted to see everyone's crappy pictures."

"I did not!" she protests. But she can barely keep her voice and face straight when she says, "Besides, how was I supposed to know about Ric's ability to perfectly time his sneeze with the click of a camera?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's really why you lost…"

Her cheeks flush as she ducks her head. "Thanks, Damon," she says sweetly, then sighs and looks back up at me. "I can't believe I've been driving without my license all day."

"Did you get pulled over?"

"No…"

"Then you're fine." I smile and tug playfully on her ponytail, and she relaxes a little. But my eyebrow quirks when she puts her license in the front pocket of the hoodie, then pulls off her plastic gloves and throws them away.

"You know what would make me feel a lot better?" she asks, and that look is trouble, plain and pure. And I know I'm in deep shit when she grazes her fingertips down my forearms until my hands instinctively catch hers, my breath locking in my throat when she laces her fingers through mine. "Dance with me," she says quietly, and something about the look in her eyes, the privacy in her tone makes my heart thud in my chest.

"Elena…"

"Come on," she pleads softly, "we haven't danced in forever."

Yeah, and there's a reason for that.

But that reason also slept with another girl and Elena's not returning his calls, and for one second, one tiny little second I let myself soak in the feel of her, the softness of her skin and the dark aroma of coffee and the sweetness of almonds. I allow myself a single moment to wonder and wish and pride myself on the thought that this voracious mix of gorgeous and smart and unbelievably gentle and kind is looking up at me and no one else.

But I never let myself think about her that way, and I'm reminded why when I feel the band of her class ring on her finger.

I sigh and squeeze her hands once before I make myself let her go, Elena's face falling when I disentangle us and take a step back, clearing my throat as I shove my hands in my pockets.

She looks away, biting the inside of her lip as she tucks a loose hair behind her ear before she looks back to me, her arms crossing defensively over her chest.

"I'm not getting back together with him," she says seriously, and I nod.

"I know. I still can't."

She shakes her head at me, her bottom lip faintly trembling but I don't hear the quaver in her voice when she whispers, "There's a difference between_ can't_ and _don't want to_."

"Elena, wait a second. That's not…I just don't want people to get the wrong idea."

"And what's the wrong idea?" she says sounding so completely hurt, and I _hate _that I just did that to her. She takes a small step closer, and I swallow. "What's the excuse this time, Damon? You said that you had an issue with me having a boyfriend, and I can respect that. But guess what? I'm single now, and you're _still_ pulling away from me. And I just…I don't get it," she says and shakes her head. She digs my car keys out of the front pocket of the hoodie and shoves them at my chest before she turns away.

I catch her wrist and wait until she looks back at me, dropping my voice as low as possible. "You are _seventeen_…"

She exhales a rush of air like she can't believe I just said that, and then her eyes narrow and she yanks her hand out of my grasp. "You're right. What could I possibly have been thinking?"

She grabs her license from the front pocket of the hoodie and angrily pulls her arms out of the sleeves, tugging it over her head before she holds the sweater out to me, and I cross my arms, refusing to take it.

"You're freezing and you know it."

"Sorry, but we wouldn't want _people_ to get the wrong idea that I'm anything to you other than the child mayor of the friendzone."

"Will you stop?" I hiss. "I'm trying to do the right thing here…"

She steps a little closer into me, her chin lifted defiantly. But her eyes are burning with embarrassment and regret, and it completely destroys me. "The right thing for who?"

She tosses the hoodie at me so it lands on top of my shoulder, then she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me standing there in a swirl of shocked as all hell that the gritty truth has finally come out. And more than anything, I'm sick to my stomach that I may have just lost her and I wasn't supposed to be this close to her in the first place and I just…

I pull the hoodie off my shoulder and fling it over to a bare section of the prep table, yanking on new plastic gloves and staring at the box of mushrooms she abandoned. I let myself feel every bit of the asshole that I am, to know how much I've hurt her when she doesn't need that from me of all people before I shut it down, closing my eyes and ears and thoughts against the climbing pace of the store, and I go deep.

* * *

**A/N: WHOO! This chapter is a rush of up and down, and I had waaaaaaay too much caffeine when writing the dialogue in the middle and if anyone got ALL of the movie references then you are my QUEEN/KING. Now, yes, I totally shoved Kol out of the picture, and quick. A lot quicker than most of you expected according to your reviews, which is kinda awesome for me because I love keeping you guys on your toes when I can. AND we have Elena making her move, QUICK. BUT, even though it feels like DAYAM, GOLDY, SHE JUST BROKE UP WITH THAT GUY! keep in mind that we are experiencing time jumps all over the place. Keep your eyes on those "few weeks" phrases when they pop up because this story does take place over a fairly lengthy period of time, vs Auto In that was like, a month and a half from beginning to end. Just for reference purposes: this story began in their world roughly Mid/Late August, last chapter took place beginning of October and we are now in Late November according to my mental timeline. And we have a WAYS to go! (like, we're about 1/3 of the way in) And Kol? PFFT. He's the least of our problems ;) **

**Can't wait to hear your thoughts and rants and OMG's and GURRRRL, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING WHEN YOU WRITE THIS STUFF because you guys make me super happy face, and I adore you. Until next time, be safe and sweet to one another.**

**OH! And if anyone knows where I can find a video link to the Heineken commercial where there are two guys in the bar taking about speaking metaphorically vs similiacally and it ends with the first guy calling the second guy a boob, would you please mssg me? Because that commercial was the bomb and I just spent an hour looking for it and can't find it anywhere and I'm starting to think I made it up. :( I BELIEVE IN YOUR PROWESS, READERSHIP! **

**TRUST FALLS AND UNICORNS AND LOTS OF HAPPY SHIT!**

**-Goldnox**


	8. The Wrong Choice

**A/N: AHHHHHHHH YOU ARE ALL TOO GOOD TO ME! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HANDLE THE LOVE? I KNOW! GIVE IT BACK BY UPDATING A WEE BIT EARLY!**

**There are no words to express how much I miss by darling dragon, Trogdor19, while she's off building horse pens with trees after lugging said trees across mountains, in the snow, uphill both ways, and being generally the most badass chick alive. And if you don't believe me in how awesome she is, then go read _In Time We Trust_ and see for yourself! You won't be sorry!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Wrong Choice**

"Redhead, quarter to three…"

"No," I say automatically. "And you don't say 'quarter to three,' dumbass," I tell Ric, but it comes out more than a little slurred. "You say _a _number. Just one."

Some wingman he is. He can't even direct me the right direction towards the women he's scoping out on the dance floor behind me. Not that I'm interested in a single one of its occupants, but it's the principle of the thing because coming here was all his brilliant idea in the first place and he can't even do his job right.

I should fire him, just 'cause.

"Christ, you need to get that stick outta your ass," Ric mumbles, and I take another shot that was lined up on the bar in front of me. "Okay…blonde, twelve thirty."

I snort and shake my head without even looking at whoever he's babbling about. "Nope."

"You know," he says with a sigh, and I loosely turn towards his glaring abundance of bad attitude. "What are we doing in this disease-riddled watering hole if you're not even going to _look _at any of the women? Because I sure as shit am not going to find anyone _I_ wanna go home with."

"How do you know?" I ask, my eyebrow arching in a taunt as I take another shot with a grimace. "You could whistle and then all the straight men would flock right to you and fall to their knees…" I take another shot and force it down when it tries to come back up. "Begging for you to show them the light. Or, at least the color of your bed sheets. Which I'd bet…" I say and then gulp one more shot, "are _plaid_."

I swivel back towards the bar and eye the line of glassware in front of me, most of them empty but a few still beckoning with the promise of mind-dissolving tequila while I plainly ignore the thumping music to my back: the talentless noise that has scores of hims and hers rubbing against each other like they don't all recognize that this entire club scene is nothing more than one big orgy in the throes of foreplay.

I tilt my head and point one by one down the row of tequila shots, Eeny-Meeny-Miny-Moe'ing the little fuckers before stopping wherever I damn well please. I grin and throw it back and after I spike my lime like a football because at least I remembered it this time, I look to Ric and smirk sloppily. But when his eyes narrow, I pout at him because he's acting like a whiny lumberjack baby, and the next thing I know is that his fist is curled into my shirt before he hauls me off the barstool.

"What the fuck, bitch? I'm not drunk enough to be on your menu…"

"We're out of here," he mumbles, shoving me towards the door of the bar and when the night air hits me, I sway and stumble, more than a little nauseous at the rapid temperature swing. The concrete spins like I'm on a Tilt-O-Whirl and then Ric is next to me, looping my arm around his shoulders as he lugs me toward his Jeep. "Don't throw up on me," he says, and I snort.

"Only if you deserve it."

He props me against the side of his Jeep but it feels more like he threw me, and I sag a little. It only takes him a second before he's yanking me forward, then lightly pushing me into the passenger seat and shutting the door. I wince at the sound, swallowing a burp that tastes like guilt and regret and somewhere between eight and nine shots of cheap ass tequila before tugging at my seatbelt, but the fucker isn't working.

"God, you're such a…" Ric mutters, and then he's clicking my seatbelt closed for me as I prop my elbow on the door, my forehead resting in my hand. He sighs, but doesn't start the car. "You about done being an asshole?" he asks, and I nod. "Good, then how about you tell me what's really going on? Because it's not Stefan and Caroline, and this isn't about your dad."

I give him a thumbs up with my other hand without looking, so it's a bit of a shock when he knocks it away.

"You've been grouchy as fuck for the past three weeks, and I'm over it. And my money is on it having something to do with Elena not speaking to you."

I groan.

"No more flirty little prep sessions," he drawls, "no disco get downs in the back, no more of her prancing around in your hoodie like it's a quarterback's letterman jacket…"

"Shut up."

"What happened there?"

I shake my head.

"Damon…"

"Ric," I snap, _"drop it."_

"Did you make a move or—"

"She did," I blurt out, turning to face him. "And I shot her down, and now she fucking hates me. Happy?"

He tilts his head, his brow furrowed. "Why did you turn her down? I thought she broke up with her boyfriend…"

I throw my hand up, exasperated, then look out the passenger window.

"She _didn't _break up with him?" Ric tries, and I blow out a breath.

"She's single, and too young for me to have said yes."

"Oh, give me a break, Damon. It's not like she's not going to be seventeen forever."

I whip around, shocked at what he's suggesting, and he arches an eyebrow at me.

"What? After a few years, it won't even matter."

"Yeah, well I'm not exactly sure a _judge_ would see it that way."

He scoffs. "Do you have any idea how stupid you sound? Most of us can't even find someone halfway decent worth spending more than five minutes on. And if we do, they're usually looking at someone else." I wince and he points his finger at me. "And you can lie all you want and try to deny it, but I know you've been secretly drooling over her for months and you need to stop being such a little bitch about owning up to what you want. Come out of the fucking closet already," he says angrily, and I snort.

"You come out of the closet," I say super maturely, and his voice drops lower.

"Damon, I'm gonna make this real simple for you. Some of us like women. Some of us like men. And some of us like bubbly little high school seniors that would rather dance the funky chicken than to sort the goddamn pieces like I repeatedly ask her to."

"Fuck you," I growl, and he rolls his eyes at me. "I'm trying to do the right thing here."

"So does that mean you're ready to admit that you _want_ to do 'the wrong thing'?"

"Of course I fucking do!" I shout. "She's…" I trail off, everything in me softening when I think about her, _really_ think about her like I never let myself.

But I'm too drunk to cling to excuses that I keep having to play on repeat, and I close my eyes and drown in the memory of how incredibly amazing she feels in my hands and how absolutely sick I've felt ever since she walked away from me that night.

Because she won't talk to me, will barely look at me and when she does, it's brutal. Like she's hurting, but that can't be right because I'm the one that misses her, and I'm not supposed to. Dammit, _I'm not supposed to_ but I still do and I want her back. And it's not like we were together but _Christ_ it feels like I lost a whole lot of something important.

I groan and scrub a hand over my face, then let my head fall back against the seat. "Ric…"

"Yep."

"I really fucked up," I admit, but I'm not a damn sight closer to knowing what to do about it.

"Well, then fix it. Because as long as you're not having sex with her in front of a police station, then there's no reason you can't accept the fact that you like her." He pauses and then his voice drops to a grumbled, "Which is nothing short of extraordinary considering you're the pickiest son of a bitch I've ever met."

The corner of my lips pulls up, then I look over at him. "You have met Elena, right?"

He chuckles and starts the car. "Christ, you got it bad for her."

I stay quiet as he drives us back to his apartment, just thinking, the lines of the streets all one big blur. But I know where they go, even if I haven't taken them before.

And Ric is right: I am picky as all hell and there's a reason for that. Because it used to be that I wasn't picky enough.

Sophomore year, that's when it started. Out of the gate and onto the leaderboard. It doesn't take long for word to travel through high school hallways about who is packing what and knows how to use it. And I was all too happy to expand my skill base under a long list of names that changed by the month. Sometimes, by the week. I was young and cocky and stupid, and I liked having sex. What sixteen-year-old male doesn't?

And I know it wasn't my fault. I do. But still, there's nothing like coming home from sleeping with a girl whose name I can't even remember to find my father collapsed in the garage. The place where I was supposed to be but _wasn't_ because I had been too busy screwing what's-her-name.

Stefan doesn't know. I never had the guts to tell him why Dad was alone, and he never asked.

It took a while to get back in the saddle after that, but it wasn't ever the same. It felt like it needed to be _worth_ it, because when I'm with a woman now, I'm with her completely. And the few names over the past couple of years that I thought were worth getting to know? They always turned out to be mistakes. So I'm done repeating my wrongs and I've been done for a while, but _never_ did I expect that a seventeen-year-old dance captain would be the one to make me consider coming out of my self-imposed moron retirement.

Ric has to help me out of his Jeep after we park, the tequila I stupidly guzzled demolishing my system and my steps are thick and unsteady while he drags me towards his front door, my arm draped around his shoulder again. He lets us in and somehow between me tripping over his coffee table and him halfway dropping me, I end up on his couch, my stomach flipping and head spinning as I stretch out with my eyes closed.

He snorts and leaves, and then his boots squeak on the linoleum of the kitchen and the refrigerator opens with a sickly suck before it closes, and then he's back, lightly tapping my temple with something plastic and cold.

"Water," he says and I groan, grabbing the bottle from him.

I clear my throat, then blow out a breath because there's no use debating this anymore.

"I'm gonna be late tomorrow," I mumble, opening my eyes to see him standing over me before he turns and walks over to his front door, closing it from where it was still open and then flipping the deadbolts. "Gotta fix something."

He turns back with a nod, then smiles as he starts walking towards his room. "Good. Fix it."

* * *

I park my car and blow out a breath, and this is beyond crazy and so pushing the boundaries of anything I would ever consider being a remotely acceptable gamble to take, but I also know with everything in me that I need to do this. That I _have_ to do this.

I grab the small paper bag from my passenger seat and the coffee from my cup holder, getting out of my car and beginning to make my way across the parking lot of the community college. The one that I haven't been to since I dropped out two years ago.

Heat bleeds through the plastic cup and into my palm as people start pouring out of one of the buildings, and when I reach blue paint and exquisite black rims, I lean against the driver's door. I cross my ankles and shift the cup to my other hand because my palm is burning, then I shift again and re-cross my ankles the other way as I wait, my eyes closing with a sigh. And for a fleeting second, I reconsider because _God_, this is probably such a bad idea but I—

"Damon?"

My eyes fly open and I look to my right, and Elena is stopped in place five feet away from me with her car keys in her hand and the straps of her backpack hooked onto her shoulders, her long hair down and fluttering in the breeze. My eyes travel over her, trying to ignore how the deep scoop neck of her long sleeved shirt and the tightness of her low-rise jeans have my heart wanting to combust, her mile long legs half covered in dark leather boots that are almost to her knees and _fuck_ she looks amazing.

I clear my throat and straighten from where I'm leaning against her car like I have a right to be here, as though it's not completely insane for me to be ambushing her like a stalker after her Intro to Psych class, and she takes a few more steps closer, her eyebrow arching when she stops in front of me.

"I um, I know you have to get back to the high school for dance practice, like, now, but I just need a minute, if that's okay."

Christ, I sound like a tool.

She ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ear, then her car beeps twice beside me and I startle. The corner of her lips pulls up as she steps around me, and I move back to give her enough room to open her door as she slips off her backpack. She gently places it inside her car, then pivots to face me and I'd really like it if my heart would stop pounding, but I doubt that's going to happen.

"Is that for me?" she asks quietly, her eyes darting to the coffee in my hand, and it takes me way too long to respond because I can't stop thinking about how incredible she looks with her hair down.

"Yeah," I finally mumble and pass it to her, along with the paper bag before I clear my throat and shove my hands in my pockets.

"What's this?"

I shrug. "Sushi. You never seem to eat between school and dance and then you're always starving when you get to work if you don't stop and grab something on the way and it's really not good for you to be dancing for hours at a time on an empty stomach when—"

"Damon," she cuts me off, and I lock my jaw closed like that'll erase the embarrassing amount of stupid that just tumbled out of my mouth. "Relax. And, thank you."

She turns and sets the bag in her seat, taking a sip of the coffee before sliding it into her cup holder and then she turns back to face me, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.

"So…is that why you're here? To bring me coffee and sushi?"

I look away, unable to meet her knowing gaze and when I can finally make myself respond, I shake my head.

I wish I knew how to say this, that I had the balls to admit it.

She deserves so much better than this.

I look back at her and she doesn't say anything, just tilting her head at me patiently, and she's so sweet to be giving me the time of day right now when she's busy and she could've flipped me off the second she saw me. And I don't know what I was thinking coming up here because I know she's still pissed as all hell and the last thing I want is to mess up her day when she's not even halfway through it, but I…

She sighs and I swallow, shifting my weight and crossing my arms as I look at the pavement below her boots, and for the life of me I can't stop thinking that I never should have flirted with her all those times when I was nothing more than the guy delivering her pizza. That all of this, every single bit of it, is my fault because I knew I was playing with fire and now she's getting burned for it.

I risk a glance at her and she's looking down, biting the inside of her lip, and when she peeks back up at me I finally open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

"I gotta go," she mumbles and turns to get in her car, and I take a hasty step forward.

"I'm an ass," I blurt out. "And you're…"

"What?" she snaps, whipping around to glare at me. _"Seventeen?"_

"No! I mean, _yes,_ but that's not—"

"Then say it, Damon, because I don't have time to—"

"You're fucking ruining me!" I shout, and then the secrets steadily pour out from where I've kept them hidden for months. "God, Elena, it doesn't matter how many times I tell myself to stop thinking about you because I can't get out of my head the way you smile at me when you think I'm not looking and how you smell like the sunrise on Thanksgiving, and I can't tell you how much I love that you never stop dancing even for a minute or that right now the _only_ thing I want do is to kiss you but…" I stop and shake my head, my teeth gritted against it but it feels like my voice is being torn from my chest when it continues with a strangled, "_I can't._ Because it's wrong, and not just wrong but fucking_ illegal_ and even if it wasn't I _still_ wouldn't be the right guy for you and _fuck_ do I wish I was. But never," I promise, my voice steadier in my conviction, "did I mean for you to think that I'm pulling away because I don't care. I'm tearing myself apart trying to stay away from you, because I _do_."

I've just gotten a chance to feel the first taste of shock at what just happened because I came here to apologize, but I didn't mean to admit that I'm completely crazy about her and I'm so fucking stupid because she's silent and her eyes are huge, and I open my mouth again, but thank God nothing comes out because I don't really trust my voice anymore and I'm not sure how or why it happens, but one second she's gaping at me and the next she's moving and then her body slams into mine, her arms locked around my neck and when the reality of it sets in, that I can_ feel_ her, I don't hesitate to squeeze my arms around her waist and damn near lift her off the ground because I've missed her, and I just can't help it.

She takes a shaky breath, her whole body quivering and I have no idea if she's crying or just cold because she's always, always freezing, and if I wasn't such a monumental idiot I would've brought my jacket for her because I should've known better, but I didn't.

"I'm sorry," I whisper and she blows out a long, quiet breath that tickles my ear but feels like forgiveness, and when she nods, it fixes everything that's been wrong inside of me for weeks.

She squeezes me a little tighter before she pulls away, and I reluctantly loosen my hold on her, setting her back down. But she doesn't go far when she cradles my jaw in her tiny palms, my forehead leaning against hers as she smiles.

She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, and neither do I, just breathing her in as her thumbs sweep tenderly over my cheekbones. And she feels so good, like a haven that I somehow forgot existed and I can't remember why I ever left in the first place. But I know that's wrong, because as close as she and I have ever been, we've never held each other this way.

"Damon?" she asks quietly, and I swallow. "Did you really just say I smell like the sunrise on Thanksgiving?"

I shake my head with a shrug. "I don't have the slightest clue what I just said," I admit. "Any of it."

She breathes a silent laugh. "Well," she starts, her voice a little thicker than normal. "It was good."

I smooth my palms around to her lower back to make sure she's real, and when she hums happily, I smile, my voice barely a touch more than a whisper. "You know when I say the wrong shit it's because you're the only person that ever gets me to talk this much, right?"

"I take that as a compliment of the highest order."

I chuckle, and she faintly shakes her head.

"God, Damon, I really like you, I do. And I know you're worried about the age thing but…" she trails off. "It's just a number," she whispers, and my eyes close.

"But that number, Elena. It makes me feel like…"

She nods and then leans back, forcing me to open my eyes to meet her gaze. "So where does that leave us?" she asks and when I don't respond, she sighs, but then the corner of her lips pulls up and she gets that devious look in her eyes, the one that's a hell of a turn on even while it scares the shit out of me. "You want to know when that number is going to change?"

"No," I say immediately and shake my head.

"What?" she bursts out, laughing a little as she presses closer into me, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of my neck and it's nothing short of amazing. "Why not?" she taunts, her lips dangerously close to mine and she is going to wreck my whole goddamn world the first time I let myself taste them, I know it. "It _should_ make you feel better."

"Because," I start, but I half forget what we're even talking about when she slides her leg to the outside of mine and bends her knee a bit so _my_ knee is now flirting with the space between her thighs, and a growl rumbles out of my throat, my hand pulling her hips in tighter and she has to be able to tell how hard I am but…

_Fuck._

I grit my teeth, trying to get my head on straight. "Stop," I plead, and she winks at me. She fucking winks at me. "Just…I don't want to know. Because despite the fact that you're driving me _crazy_," I growl and squeeze her hips, "it's not about sex, Elena."

Her face softens before she stretches up and rewraps her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. "Don't _ever _let anyone tell you that you're not a good guy," she whispers, and my lips drop to her shoulder. "You're the best one I've ever met and I know you feel like you need to wait for me, but the truth is, Damon, I'm waiting for you." Her voice is somehow even more gentle when she adds, "But I'll wait. You're totally worth it."

I cup the back of her neck under the silky strands of her hair, breathing in the intoxicating scent of this beautiful, forbidden girl as I try to believe her: that at some point all these stupid roadblocks are going to melt away and we'll be free to let this happen. But at the very least, there's a knot unwinding in my stomach from knowing that we both want it to, and that we're not going to keep it a secret. Not from one another, not anymore.

I risk a kiss to her temple, the first one I've ever dared to give her and her body shivers as she holds me a little bit tighter.

"Three things…" she breathes and I nod. "One: You look crazy hot, and not that you don't rock your work uniform because you do, but I could so get used to the black button down and jeans ensemble."

I chuckle, because it didn't even occur to me that she's never seen me dressed like this before today. And normally I'm in t-shirt and jeans when I'm not at work, and I don't even know why I went for this instead when I got home and changed clothes but…yeah. Not regretting it. "And like you're not killing me in those damn boots…"

She giggles and with the way her chest is molded to mine, the movement wrenches another low growl out of my throat and my hand flexes against the small of her back.

"Oh God, Damon, you can't make that noise and expect me not to—"

"Sorry," I whisper with a smile. "What was number two?"

"Huh?" she says, then lightly shakes her head. "Oh, that it's really sweet that you brought me food, but…I hate sushi," she confesses and I lean back to see her eyes, loving the apologetic pout on her lips.

I grin and tuck her hair behind her ear. "Good thing I brought you a burger."

She gasps and I return the expression mockingly.

"Really?" she asks, instantly lit up, and I wink.

She may not be mine yet, but it doesn't mean I _don't_ know that she craves junk food constantly and absolutely hates fish. In every form it comes in.

"And the third?" I prompt, and her face falls.

"I have to go."

"I know," I tell her, because I do. "But I'll see you in a few hours."

"Okay," she says softly, a hint of a blush rising along with her smile and I can't get enough of it. I cup her face in my hand and sweep my thumb over her lips, and she sucks in a breath when I lean down, then brush a kiss onto her cheek.

"Be safe," I tell her and she nods, then I let her go and turn, heading back to my car and my grin growing wider with each step I take. But I pause and pivot when she suddenly calls my name, finding her with her arms crossed as she shakes her head with a smile.

"You didn't get me a burger, you liar," she calls over to me. "You brought me a burrito."

Damn right I did.

"You think I don't know what it is you_ really_ want?"

She laughs, and fuck me running if she doesn't taunt me with, "If that was the case then you would've kissed me just now."

I grin and turn back around, chuckling to myself as I continue walking towards my car.

"_Damon!"_ she calls out in complaint. "You're supposed to respond to that…"

"You're gonna be late," I singsong as I unlock my door, letting her catch just a glimpse of my smile before I slide into my seat while she curses and then jumps into hers.

And damn if I don't already know this girl is gonna be one long list of wrong choices. But I also know that I am going to love every single one of them, because they all seem to be the right ones in the end.

* * *

**A/N: And the good times are gonna come! Also, I'm battling a severe case of the dreaded Writer's Block and you know what helps? SLAMMING THE FAVE AND FOLLOW BUTTONS LIKE CRAZY! (reviews help too ;) Can't wait to hear your thoughts, and if something is niggling in that beautiful brain of yours, don't hesitate to ask over at _ask DOT fm _****BACKSLAAAAAAAASH asliceofgold ****. Stay safe and sweet to one another, and I'll see you guys on the morrow. Peace!**

******-Goldnox**


	9. Counting Down

**A/N: Howdy ho and may your breakfast be awesome! (And your lunch, and dinner) You guys are the best! But there seems to be a bit of confusion here and there so let's see if we can set the record a little straighter...**

**- Damon is 21 years old in this fic. Elena is currently 17, and we do not know when her birthday is as per Damon's request :) (ahhhh, the suspense!)**

**- Labor Laws: according to both Arizona AND U.S. Federal Child Labor Laws, there is NO stipulation on the AMOUNT of hours a 17-year-old minor may work, or HOW LATE they may work, only stipulations on the TYPES of jobs they may hold. This is different for 14-15, but as of 16, it's fair game :) **

**- Age of consent: In the state of Arizona (I understand this is different for Europe and other parts of the world so this is why we're clarifying) the age of consent is 18, pertaining to ANY sexual acts. There are also no close-in-age exceptions, like say, well it's within two or three years so we'll let it slide... NOPE. There is also no exception for BOTH parties being minors. If you are under 18, you're in deep trouble. If having sex with a person under the age of consent (even if you are under the age of consent) you can be persecuted and charged with crimes ranging from sexual assault to first degree rape, regardless of whether or not the sexual acts were consensual. Depending on the charges, conviction can carry penalties ranging from one to fifty years in prison and registration as a sex offender. Now, do people have sex under the age of consent? YES. TEENS HAVE SEX. The reason it's so scary for Damon vs Kol and Elena? It's a hell of a lot more conspicuous when there is a VISIBLE, noticeable age difference btwn the partners thus making it more likely to be reported. And in a fairly conservative state like AZ? 17 with 21-year-old doesn't sound good, look good, or is typically viewed as anything but an older guy looking to take advantage of a younger girl, which in our circumstances we certainly know is not the case. Sometimes, attraction and emotions don't care about ages. My husband is 12 years older than me. 18 and 30 sounds TERRIBLE. 28 and 40? *shrugs* no one thinks twice. Sometimes it's just how the numbers sound together, as messed up as that is. I hope that clarifies Damon's resistance on their physical relationship, why Elena doesn't see it to be that big of a deal when none of her other previous boyfriends hesitated to get her in her skivvies, and why the age has been a big deal in this story. If there are still questions, please feel free to PM me and I'd be happy to chat with you :) **

**And please don't hesitate to raise concerns or question something that sounds odd, sometimes what we commonly hear and think is law is not always quite so, but have no fear, if I'm writing it, I've researched it ;) I'm a total psycho about research to hold to plausibility, plus it helps share what is common to us U.S. citizens to our friends around the world (hi friends!*waves*) My poor search engine thinks I'm SUCH A FREAK and that I'm like, hoarding minors in Tucson and making them read insane amounts of comic books and eat nothing but gum before they all dance to the B-52's and I have sex with them... Oh! Is that the feds at my door? ;)**

**All my love to Trogdor19, MAY SHE BE IN TEXAS SOOOOON! BECAUSE A MONTH IS TOO FAR AWAY!**

**And now that we have all of that cleared up, Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Counting Down**

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I pull into the parking lot of the store, and I can't help my grin as I answer it.

"Let me guess. You…realized that Arizona sucks and are running away to the Bahamas, and you called to say—"

"_That our flight leaves in an hour,"_ Elena continues smoothly. _"Pack your bags, Salvatore."_

I snort and get out of the car, slinging the empty warming bags over my shoulder.

"_Come see me,"_ she says sweetly, and I sigh. She does this every Saturday night now that she's no longer working them.

She needed the extra time to study, the grand thrust towards graduation already in motion even though they've barely started spring semester, and it sucks that we permanently lost one of the few days we get to have together, but I get it. Because the essays and the tests and the applications and the practices, all the practices, they're pushing her to the limit. And she never ceases to amaze me because somehow while wading through the load of bullshit and stress that keeps getting typed into the calendar on her cellphone, she continues smiling and laughing because she's _Elena_.

But when I slow her down and make her breathe, gently telling her that for a few minutes she can drop the Princess Perfect act and just be her, she breaks. Behind the store or in the walk in, sometimes up front if we're the only ones here, I'll pull her in close and make her dance with me. She'll smile at first, her hand on my shoulder and mine on her waist, our others tucked against my heart, but all too soon her bottom lip quivers and her whole body deflates, exhaustion seeping out from her eyes in the form of the few tears she'll allow to fall before she pulls herself back together.

And despite that happening more and more often lately, she still didn't think it was necessary to change her work schedule and it mostly has to do with the fact that it wasn't her idea. Daddy S Series is bossy. And his daughter is stubborn. But he won and after she got done pouting, she started ordering pizza on her nights off, which I still say is dumb because he's going to catch on to what's happening but she never listens to me either.

It's not like I don't miss her during the days we spend apart because I do, but we agreed to wait: to care but to be careful. And even if I was to risk seeing her on a Sunday when we're both off from work, as in finally take her on a _date_, it wouldn't be an option because they are reserved for family alone according to the patriarch of the Gilbert Clan. Who still has no concept that I exist. Thank fucking God.

"_Damon…"_

"Elena," I whine mockingly, passing my receipt to Rebekah after I come in the side door before jerking my chin at Ric, who rolls his eyes at seeing me on the phone. I ignore him in favor of scanning the rack of deliveries.

"_Are you at the store?"_

My eyebrow arches suspiciously. I know that tone and she's up to something. "Yes," I drawl. "I just—" I chuckle and shake my head, grabbing the warming bag off the shelf and heading back out to my car. "Seriously?" I say as I pull out of the parking lot, pointing my headlights and life towards the 77.

"_Seriously what?"_ she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice. _"So…who are you delivering to?"_

"Some hot little number. Great legs. Big tipper."

"_Hilarious,"_ she deadpans. _"Really, where are you headed?"_

"You know where I'm headed," I say quietly, and I can practically hear her blush. "Do me a favor?"

"_Anything..."_

"Don't change clothes."

She giggles and I smile, hitting the gas pedal a little harder.

And yeah I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I think I've earned an extra five minutes with her considering that I'm being really goddamn good, sometimes better than I wish I was capable of. Because she's sweet and she's smart and I adore her for that, but she is also sexy as all hell and despite the fact that everything male and testosterone driven inside of me wants to claim her, I haven't. Not even with a single kiss.

It wasn't until after Christmas when she spent two weeks skiing at her family's cabin in Albuquerque that things went from casually-flirty to platonically-together-in-secret. Because she left with a simple, "I'll see you soon," but she came back _running_, bursting into the walk in like she did her first day on the job. One second I'm holding a box of dough and the next it was being ripped out of my hands, thrown carelessly on the shelf before she locked her arms so tight around my neck I could barely breathe, listening to her repeat the same words over and over: _"Too long, Damon, way too long..."_

No shit it was too long, it felt like forever. Only made worse by the fact that we hadn't been able to call one another the entire time she was gone since we hadn't exchanged numbers yet. I am dead fucking serious about not crossing any boundaries until she blows out her birthday candles, but holding her in that freezing walk in for five minutes, unable to even _contemplate_ letting her go from missing her? I gave in. Just a little. But phone calls and texts are not entirely enough by Elena's standards because with as stunning and privileged as she is, I don't think she had ever heard the word no until I said it.

And it's a hard word to say. It's really fucking hard and even though sometimes she purposefully tempts me, especially since I still have us locked ten feet from first base, I know her trying to break me down is not _always _intentional. Like when she leans back against my chest because she's tired and then she innocently shifts her weight. But when she does it her ass rubs against my cock and then I can't think about anything except to wonder what she's got on under her uniform and how good her bare skin is going to look between my bed sheets. Not that I know what her bare skin looks like but I can imagine, and it looks _good_.

But I'm trying to be a nice guy, to make the smarter choices because one of us needs to. And she keeps telling me that the clock is winding down, not that I know when it will strike, but it doesn't change the fact that until it does we're living with a bubble between us that is pure sexual tension_ and_ spending a whole lot of time on the phone discussing the things that we're not doing. Which doesn't exactly help the situation, but it's still a lot of fun.

"_So, what are your thoughts on toenail polish?"_ she asks, and I grin wickedly.

"That it should only be applied while you're naked and I get to watch."

She sucks in a breath like she's shocked, but I can hear the laugh she's containing._ "And what if I told you that it's red…"_

Sweet Jesus, she knows how to get me going.

"So does that mean you _are_ naked?"

"_Guess you'll just have to get here and find out,"_ she says huskily, and I pinch the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can reach down and adjust my pants.

"Elena, you have to stop doing this to me. I cannot get another speeding ticket."

"_Then stop speeding,"_ she says like that's an option. _"Hey, you know what I did today?"_

"What did you do today?"

"_I bought a dress."_

God, she's gonna make me wreck my car. I know it. "Is that right?"

"_Mm-hmm. It's a special dress, like super special."_

"Is it invisible?" I test, and she laughs.

"_Interesting you should say that. I'd say…a quarter of it is."_

What in the fuck does that mean? Is it mesh? Which I've always thought looked like someone had a bad run-in with a pair of scissors, but on Elena? Gimme.

"_Damon…"_

And if the dress is long, then the higher the ratio of invisibility. But if the dress is short, then she could be talking about nothing more than a low neckline. Although if it's short enough that a missing neckline equals a quarter of the dress, then the dress itself is probably the size of a damn napkin and oh God…

"_Aren't you gonna ask what it's for?"_

I blow out a breath. "Your…"

God dammit what does a quarter invisible mean? And _which_ quarter?

"_Damon…"_

"Look, you cannot say that kind of stuff to me and expect me to be charming and witty afterwards. Just give it to me."

"_I'm trying, baby, you won't let me," _she taunts and my eyes roll back in my head with a moan.

And when they open, they pop and I slam on the brake. "Shit!"

"_Damon! Are you okay?"_ she rushes out, and I chuckle.

"Yeah, I almost missed my turn because you're being mean."

"_God, don't scare me like that,"_ she says, her voice quick and panicked. _"You always drive like a maniac and I know I'm not much better but these roads are bad back here and—"_

"Elena," I cut her off, and she sighs. "I'm fine," I say with a laugh, then more gently, "stop."

"_I just worry about you,"_ she mutters and I smile, because I know she does.

"What's the dress for?"

"_Huh?"_

"Your new super special, a-quarter-invisible dress. What's it for?"

"_Oh. Prom."_

That's just great. I try to keep my tone upbeat when I say, "You should send me a picture."

"_No way! I'm not letting you see it beforehand."_

I shake my head, waving at the guy who mans the guard shack at the entrance to the grand and lovely Catalina Foothills Estates. "Elena…"

"_We can fight about this later. Where are you?"_

"Tahiti."

She laughs. _"Really, how close are you?"_

"Close enough that I need to know whether to circle around because if your dad answers the door and I'm rocking an erection—"

"_Damon!"_ she says all scandalized, which always cracks me up to no end because she's the one that's trying to push our physical relationship forward with violent shoves, but inexplicably has a hard time using the words that describe the final result.

"Seriously, is he home?"

"_Yeah, he's downstairs watching some game or debate or something…"_

"Pizza will be in your mailbox."

"_Don't you dare, I'll call your boss."_

I scoff, then slow down and park next to her driveway.

"_Are you here?"_ she asks all excited, and I can't help the dumbass grin on my face.

"Putting you in my pocket…"

I get out and slide my cell phone in my pants pocket, the line still open, then grab the warming bag from my passenger seat. It's a long walk up her driveway and around to the front door, and the whole time I can't help but wonder where her room is in this massive house: if she's got a window towards the street where she watches me pull up every Saturday night, or if she's overlooking the pool in the backyard and listening for the sound of my car.

I clear my throat and ring the doorbell, holding my breath.

The door opens a second later, my girl a knockout in a ribbed tank top and drawstring pajama pants hung tantalizingly low on her hips, her hair down and messily tossed and bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"Hey," she says with a blush and leans against the doorjamb, and when I glance down, I see her toes are glistening like they're freshly painted.

Red.

They're fucking _red._

I subtly shake my head as she beams at me, then winks, and I barely bite back my moan.

"Elena, is that the food?" a deep male voice asks, and I peek over her head as I pass her the pizza, seeing that her dad is in the living room watching some sports game from the sofa. He looks over at me and I flash a tight smile, then look back to his daughter.

"See you at work, Elena."

"Thanks, Damon," she says, a little sweeter than she should considering the circumstances. And to top it off when she hands me the cash, she discreetly slips her fingers through mine. I startle and my throat clamps shut from the apologetic yet soothing look in her eyes, and I squeeze her fingers before I pull away, then head back down the driveway.

I hear the front door shut behind me when I'm a few steps away, and when I get back to my car and take my phone out of my pocket, I hold it between my ear and shoulder so I can start the engine and shift as I drive off.

It takes her a moment to come back like she must have left her phone on her bed while she answered the door, but she comes back. She always comes back.

"_Hey there,"_ she says lightly, and I smile. _"Sorry I disappeared for a minute, there was this really hot guy delivering pizza and just between you and me, he's got a jawline that should be illegal."_

"Tell me something?"

"_Something…" _

"When I used to deliver to you—"

"_In the before time? In the long long ago?"_

"That's the one." I clear my throat. "You used to dress that way on purpose, didn't you?"

"_Why, Damon Salvatore, I do declare! Whatever do you mean?"_ she says in her best Scarlett O'Hara impression.

"I mean those pajama pants hung low enough that I know you weren't wearing anything underneath them, and the unsolvable mystery titled: the Case of the Missing Bras."

She laughs. _"You noticed that, huh?"_

"Oh yeah."

"_Wanna know the truth?"_

"Yep."

"_You were always early," _she says softly, her voice more than a little wistful._ "So despite my best efforts to look cute for you, you usually showed up before I had time to get ready. Why couldn't you ever be late, huh? Would that have been so hard?"_ she teases, and I nod.

That's what I thought.

"Flirt."

"_You started it,"_ she says smugly, and I can't really argue with that. _"Hey, babe?"_ she says a minute later, her voice a little mumbled like she's chewing.

"Hey what?"

"_You forgot my parmesan and napkins…"_

"Who said I forgot?" I ask, and then pull a U-turn to the sound of Elena giggling.

* * *

_**Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I wish I had some bubble gum.**_

I glance at the text message on my phone from Elena and smile, unlocking the front door to my apartment.

_**Do they make bubblegum for sexy giants?**_

_**Um, yeah. It's called Hubba Bubba. Duh ;)**_

_**Say Hubba Bubba five times fast. **_

"Hey," Caroline says from behind me while I shut and lock the door, and I turn, a little surprised to see her awake when it's almost 1 A.M on a Tuesday.

"Hey," I say back automatically, heading around her to go into the kitchen.

_**What was that gum with the zebra on the front? Because that stuff was the best…**_

My brow furrows as I grab a beer from the fridge, trying to—

Fucking got it.

_**Fruit Stripe**_

_**KING OF GUM TRIVIA**_

I snort, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a long pull. God, that's good after a long night of driving. Which brings my mind right back around to thinking about how Elena needs to go to sleep, especially since she has class first thing in the morning. And based off the rapid fire of her messages I know she's not anywhere near slowing down, but when she does, it'll probably be with her phone in her hand.

And that's the mental image that makes me ache, makes me wish I was there or she was here because I can see it so perfectly in my head: her overhead light on as she sits propped up against her pillows, but her head nodded at an awkward angle and her bed still made instead of her petite little frame being comfortably laid out and covered up so that for once in her life, she was warm.

I'm in the middle of typing that she needs to go to sleep when another text comes in.

_**OMG DAMON! Do you remember Bubble Tape?**_

I chuckle and take another sip of my beer.

_**How do YOU remember Bubble Tape? Do they even make that shit anymore?**_

_**Shush. **_

_**SLEEP**_

"Damon, can I talk to you for a minute?" Caroline asks, and I look up. She's standing by the table in the kitchen, just watching me with her arms crossed as I lean against the counter: beer in one hand and cell phone in the other.

"Are you okay?" I ask seriously, because she looks like she's about to tell me she broke up with Stefan again and I really hope I'm wrong about that.

His truck was downstairs in the parking lot…

Shit, unless she let him stay and she was sleeping on the couch. But normally she kicks him out of their room…

Yeah, I'm lost.

"I'm fine. I just want to talk to you for a minute."

She doesn't wait for me to respond when she pulls out a chair at the table, then looks at the one I normally occupy in a silent command to sit my ass down.

Why do I have the feeling that I'm about to be lectured?

My phone vibrates in my hand as I push off the counter and take a drink of my beer, and when I glance at the message, I choke and sputter.

_**Sleep is for parakeets and applesauce. **_

No idea why, but I love it when she talks to me in gibberish.

I set my beer down on the table and then sit, firing off a quick text while Caroline arches an eyebrow at me.

_**Pause. Cornered by bro's g/f. I think I'm in trouble. **_

_**YOU'RE ABANDONING ME FOR ANOTHER WOMAN? ;)**_

"What's up?" I ask Caroline, setting my phone down before stretching my arms up with a yawn.

"Look, I'm just gonna be blunt."

"Okay…"

"You have been really…off lately. Holed up in your room instead of hanging out with Stefan before work or with me on your days off…"

Yeah, 'cause it's kinda hard to text when your hands are on a PlayStation controller. Not that I'm going to admit to that.

"And I just…" she trails off, shaking her head and then covering her mouth with her hand like she doesn't know what to say because she's so disappointed.

Wow, okay. I mean, I guess I could spend more time with her and Stefan if it's upsetting her that much.

Shit, I bet she feels like she's getting abandoned by both of us now.

"Care—"

"Are you dealing drugs?" she asks suddenly, and my eyes widen before I burst out laughing. "It's not funny! You're always glued to that stupid phone and what else am I supposed to think?"

I lean forward, my arms crossing on the table as I drop my head, trying to muffle the sound of my laughter so I don't wake Stefan.

"Damon, I'm concerned."

I sit back up with a groan, smiling at Caroline. "I'm not dealing drugs."

"Then what is the deal with—"

"A girl," I tell her, and her whole body jerks in surprise.

"Oh!"

"Yeah…"

"Wait," she says, her whole attitude transformed from worried into gossipy with the simple mention of the female gender. "Is this the 'long list of reasons' girl you told me about?"

I clear my throat. "Yeah."

"What happened to the list?"

I smirk. "It's getting shorter."

"Aww, Damon…"

I shake my head. "Don't even—"

"Why haven't I met her?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer," Caroline tells me, and I sigh.

"It's complicated."

She rolls her eyes, then sorta melts all over again. "Well, since you refuse to let me meet her, you could at least tell me something about this girl that I'm not quite sure I even believe exists. What does she look like?" Caroline asks, and I can't help it when the corner of my lips turns up. "Aww, I wanna see!" she says at a pitch that makes me wince. "Come on, you know you have at least one picture of the two of you."

I roll my eyes. "Believe it or not, I don't."

Caroline sits back and crosses her arms. "Fine, then I'm telling your brother that you're dealing drugs because he's been as worried as I am."

I sputter and she arches an eyebrow at me.

I grit my teeth and grab my phone.

_**You still awake?**_

_**Yep, you grounded?**_

Girl thinks she's so funny…

_**Send me that picture you took. **_

_**Which one?**_

Elena's been photo crazy lately. Which I still say is a bad idea but whatever, it makes her happy.

_**Brother's g/f wants proof of life. Any of them is fine**_

_**You told her about me? Sending my fave…**_

The next message comes in and when I see the photo, I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to contain my smile before sliding my phone over to Caroline. Because the profile shot is a little off center and more than a little blurry, but it's still clear enough to see one of Elena's arms hooked around my neck for support as I growl at her menacingly, her head thrown back in giggly laughter.

I take a drink of my beer, watching Caroline's eyes widen. But when she smiles tightly and then hands me my phone, I arch an eyebrow.

"She's cute."

"Yeah, she is," I agree. "So what's with the face?"

Caroline's eyes dart away and then back at me, her voice dropping quieter. "How old is she?"

I chew the inside of my lip, then admit, "It's on the list."

"Oh, Jesus, Damon," Caroline breathes and then shakes her head.

"Look, nothing is…happening."

Caroline sighs, crossing her arms. "And you _really_ like her? Like there's no way I could convince you to possibly let this go because—"

"Caroline," I say strongly, and she holds up her hands in surrender.

"It's your life, just…be _careful_, Damon. Be so so careful."

"I will. I _am_," I tell her and she nods, then reaches forward and snags my beer before taking a deep pull.

"Why wasn't I invited to the pre-dawn pow wow?" Stefan mumbles, shuffling out of his room half-asleep. I jerk my chin at him and steal my beer back from Caroline.

"We didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep," she says soothingly as Stefan stops beside her, her arm looping around his waist as he runs his hand down her hair.

"It's fine," he says with a yawn, then shakes his head like he's trying to wake up. "What's going on?"

"Damon was telling me about his new girlfriend," Caroline says and I roll my eyes.

"Huh." Stefan nods, and I arch my eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just…" my brother starts, then clears his throat. "Does she know you're doing drugs?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," I mutter and get up, sliding my phone in my pocket before heading towards my room.

"Fine, are you _dealing _drugs then?" Stefan calls after me, and I shake my head to myself.

"I can't believe you just said that!" Caroline hisses.

"Why not? You're the one that said—"

"He's not on drugs _or_ dealing them," Caroline says a little more angrily. "And you know how I know that? Because I _talked _to him."

"Here we go…" Stefan mutters and I shut my door behind me.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and flop down on my bed.

_**If I committed fratricide, what would you say?**_

It takes her a minute to respond, and it makes me feel like such a dick because I think I might have woken her up.

_**I don't speak Spanish**_

I snort. She actually _does_ speak Spanish, and she's damn near fluent after taking it for her language elective the last four years.

_**Turn off the lights, get under the covers, and go to SLEEP**_

_**Are you hiding under my bed?**_

_**You caught me**_

Her next text doesn't come in for another minute or two, which helps because it makes it a little easier to believe her.

_**I followed all my instructions. What's my reward? ;) **_

_**Sweet dreams, Elena**_

_**That's not the answer I was looking for.**_

I wait a minute, but when she doesn't say anything after that I go ahead and set my phone down on my nightstand, stretching with a yawn. But I groan when Caroline's voice starts shrieking through the apartment.

"_Oh my God, you total ass! I saw the pictures and he has a girlfriend!"_

"_Yeah, but did he agree to take a piss test?"_

"Fuck you! I'm not on drugs!" I call out through the walls.

"_Will both of you shut up? It's almost two in the morning and someone's going to call the cops if you don't pipe down."_

"_Since when are you so concerned about the neighbors?" _Stefan retorts. Then his voice is all teasing when he says,_ "It's not like _you're_ any good at keeping quiet…"_

Fuck my life, not tonight.

Caroline squeaks and giggles, and then their bedroom door shuts and I shiver in disgust, pulling on my headphones. And I need to take a shower, but I guess I'm gonna have to wait until it's safe to have unguarded ears. I grab my phone and start my go to playlist, but once it's set I can't help but to pull up the picture Elena texted me.

I pillow my head with my hand, looking at the fullness of her lips and the graceful curve of her neck…

I close my eyes with a sigh and let my hand and the phone flop down to the mattress in defeat.

Soon.

* * *

**A/N: AHHHH THEY'RE SO MUCH FUN! Again, having WAY too much fun with this couple! As a check in, chapter count looks like it's gonna be circa 23 with epilogue, so we're definitely getting there! And as always, gotta ways to go! (I mean GAH, THEY HAVEN'T EVEN KISSED YET! SHEESH! ;) Can't wait to hear your thoughts, love all your wonderful reviews, and thanks to all who sent your warm wishes for banishing the dreaded WB! IT WORKED! I busted out two whole chapters and the beta gushed and swooned over them so BRAVO TO YOU GUYS! Hope you all stay safe and be kind to one another!**

**-Goldnox**


	10. The Bell Tolls Tricky

**A/N: HELLO THERE! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! And no words can express how thankful I am to my beta, Trogdor19, and may she climb cracks like the master she is! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Bell Tolls Tricky**

All hail Friday: the best of the best and the king of my days, the bringer of cash and freedom alike. Especially _this_ Friday. Because I've been waiting for this day a long, long time.

"That's _it_!" Elena shouts from the kitchen, and I glance at the clock back here. 5:42. So much for her punctuality streak. "I officially give up and hate everything!"

I shake my head and continue sorting and bagging the raw chicken wings, eight at a time, slanting a peek at Elena when she strolls around the corner like she's on a mission. She's got one hell of a pout on her face and I raise an eyebrow, my gloved hands busily dropping another chicken wing in the plastic bag before I spin it closed in a temporary tie.

"Hey," I say gently, and her bottom lip trembles.

And without ever pausing in her steps, she ducks under my left arm so she's between me and the prep table before hugging me fiercely: her head tucked under my chin as she squeezes her arms around my waist, doing her best to hide from the world for five minutes.

Dammit, I really didn't want her to have a bad day today.

I curl my shoulders forward so she feels a little more protected, and the movement makes her ponytail sway. She hasn't had time to cut her hair in a while since she's been so busy, and it's now more than halfway down her back. And don't get me wrong, she's gorgeous with her hair this long, but she's gonna have to start tying it up differently before she comes to work because if a health inspector were to see this, Ric would be in deep shit.

"Sweetheart, if you would be so kind as to—"

"Sorry." She pulls her ponytail forward over her shoulder, tucking it between us so strays don't fall onto the prep table.

She takes a deep, shaky breath and I lay my cheek to her crown, then get an idea.

"Ric!" I yell and Elena jumps, but doesn't let go.

"What?" he calls back from his office.

"I need Pumpkins."

"What are you—" Elena asks, but Ric cuts her off.

"1979; Zero; Mayonaise…"

I knew he was my best friend for a reason. And any of those would work, but they're not what I had in mind.

"Tonight, Tonight, brother."

Elena snorts and then shakes her head, the opening chords of one of the best songs ever recorded by the Smashing Pumpkins beginning to stream over the speakers thanks to Ric's iPod. She listens as I breathe the lyrics just loud enough for her to hear while I continue sorting the chicken behind her back, both of us slightly swaying to the song that feels like a promise and an apology: mourning for yesterday, anticipating tomorrow, and most importantly, a resolution to conquer today.

The song eventually ends and I drop a kiss to her hair.

"Billy Corgan is the flippin' master," Elena mumbles, and I chuckle.

All of a sudden Particle Man by They Might Be Giants starts playing over the speakers, and when something moves in my peripheral vision, I glance to my left and see Ric poking his head around the corner with a smug grin on his face. He jerks his chin at Elena, who can't see him because she's facing the other way, and I make the hand gesture for OK behind her back.

He fist-pumps when Elena starts snickering at the absolute absurdity of the "song" we are listening to, and it's so good to hear that I may end up buying Ric a bottle of bourbon for having my back like only he could know how to do.

"Ric! What in the _hell_ are we listening to?" Rebekah shouts from up front, and Ric rolls his eyes before walking away.

"Stop worrying about it and get back to work!"

"Two more minutes and I swear I'll help you sort the chicken," Elena whispers into the collar of my shirt, and I shiver when she starts raking her nails down my back.

"Take your time," I drawl, and she silently laughs.

"How was your day?" she asks, and I shrug.

"I think the better question is how was yours? Miss 'I'm giving up on everything.'"

"Ugh…" She groans, squeezing me a little tighter and dropping her forehead to my chest. "Overslept, spilled coffee all over my backpack, B in Econ, two girls sprained their ankles during practice—"

"And the infamous kick routine strikes again!"

She pinches my side and I wince. "And Bonnie is getting back together with that guy."

"The douchebag who told her that she had no business being on a skateboard because it wasn't sexy?"

"That's the one."

"I still say she should have clotheslined him with her board for that."

Elena is suspiciously quiet.

"Fuck yes!" I laugh. "Please tell me you got that on video…"

"She didn't hit him," Elena concedes. "But _maybe_ she did a rail grind in her underwear in front of his friends just to spite him…"

I snort, spinning a bag of chicken closed. "I have got to meet this girl."

"Yeah, well tough because she's being stupid and I'm mad at her."

"What are you gonna do, lock her away in a ramp-less tower?" I tease and Elena nods.

"I should. Because today it was like him being a total jerk to her never even happened."

"Enlighten, please," I say and open the next cardboard box of wings. God, they never end.

"She spent fifteen minutes in the back of her car with him during lunch, and now he's out of the doghouse."

I peer down at Elena and she sighs.

"She claims he's 'talented.'"

I shake my head. "Are you sure she didn't crack her head at some point? Because I can guarantee you, nothing that's finished after fifteen minutes deserves to be labeled as talented."

"I'll believe _that_ when I see it," she says, and I suck in a breath when she slips her hand under the back of my shirt and tickles her nails over my spine. She looks up at me, her eyebrow arched with a tricky twist to her lips, and I chuckle.

"It's too early to pick fights," I stage whisper, then change the subject. "And Bonnie can't find anyone better to spend time with in the back of her car?"

"Not everyone can find someone that's hot _and_ sweet, Mr. High and Mighty. Slim pickins, ya know?"

I grin. "Smooth, Elena."

She shifts and stretches up on her toes, nuzzling my neck and jawline with the tip of her nose. "I try."

I take a step forward, my hips pushing her roughly against the prep table behind her and she squeaks, her hands fisting into my shirt as she tries to keep her balance. I look down and her eyes are hazy like she must be able to feel my response, because when she does that it drives me crazy in the best way and she damn well knows it.

"Well _hello_," she breathes, a pleased smile on her lips as she stares at mine, but I know my girl and fifty bucks says she was saying her greeting to another—_lower_—part of my anatomy.

"Anyone ever tell you that for being so short, you're incredibly uninhibited?"

"Then maybe you should inhibit me…"

I swallow and go back to acting like I'm concentrating on sorting the last few chicken wings behind her back, when really all I can think about is how warm her body is through her clothes with the way her chest is pressed against mine.

"Mm-hmm."

I peek down at her. "You're distracting me," I tell her with a wink, and she finally beams at me. My days never feel complete without getting at least one of those.

"Can I have the keys?"

"Left pocket," I tell her since my hands are busy being covered in plastic gloves and contaminated by raw chicken, and when she reaches in my pants pocket, her eyes widen as she realizes I lied.

"Who are you and what did you do with Damon?" she asks teasingly, and I shrug.

"I forgot," I lie again, and she shakes her head before pulling my car keys out of my right pocket.

She goes to duck out from under my arm, but when I lock my arm down to block her and clumsily wrangle her back, she bursts out laughing: her back now to my chest and still between me and the prep table, my arms on either side of her. I dip my head to her neck and breathe her in, then growl a little against her skin because it always makes her giggle and it works like a charm.

"What has gotten into you today?" she says happily. "Although I am so not complaining…"

I don't answer as I rest my cheek to her temple, just keeping her close for a minute before I press a kiss into her hair and she hums, leaning back against me.

"Feeling better?" I ask quietly, and she nods. "Good. Then you can put on some gloves and help me…"

"_Damon,"_ she whines.

"Or you can go out to the car and get your hoodie—you popsicle of a human being—and then _come back_ and help me."

"I vote Option C: you do _that,"_ she says and points to the bags of chicken, "while I do _this_…" She tilts her hips back and I hiss between my teeth, rock hard and quickly accelerating into a status that is all Right Now and none of the We Can't. "And we'll call it a fair trade."

"I don't know what you call that, but it sure isn't fair."

She turns around, careful to keep her ponytail forward as she cups my jaw in one hand, stretching up to brush a kiss onto my cheek. "Be right back," she tells me and I smile, letting her go this time when she gently pushes my arm up so she can slip out from under it.

The back door of the store closes behind me, and as I finish the last few bags of chicken, I track her movements in my head. Because she's walking…she's walking…she's opening the passenger door to my car and grabbing my sweater from the seat and…she should have just found it underneath the hoodie. I grin as I spin the plastic bag and set it aside, pulling off my gloves and throwing them away while I mentally count down 5…4…3…2…

"Oh my God!" she screeches as she comes darting back around the corner, and I barely turn into time to catch her as she springs onto me: one of her legs hitched over my hip and her arms wrapped around my neck. I stumble back a bit under my laugh as I adjust my grip on her, locking my arms under her bottom. "You found it! How in the _world_ did you actually find a copy of _Star Wars the Ballet_ when it's impossible to get and it's exactly the right production and you got it on Blu-ray and just…_Damon!"_

Yep, she's completely nuts, but she _loves it_ and watches it like zealots read the bible and I swear she cried on the phone for three hours when she realized she left her copy at the cabin in Albuquerque.

"Happy birthday," I tell her softly, and she shakes her head even as she squeezes me tighter.

"You weren't supposed to know that," she whispers, then pulls back to look at me before she leans her forehead to mine. "Who told you it was today?"

"Well, let's see," I start, then lower my voice. "Maybe your nosy boss asked me a month ago if you and I were going to be taking the day off to celebrate _privately._"

She gasps, leaning back to gape at me and I return the expression mockingly. "Ric did not ask that!"

"Oh he most certainly did."

I almost hit him for it too. But it's not like I told him that I specifically didn't want to know when she was turning eighteen because I didn't want to be staring at a date on a calendar like it was some sort of goal. I mean, it was, and it wasn't. Things still need to happen when they happen, the normal way, and I'll be damned if I'm going to schedule the first time I take Elena to bed like it's an appointment. But at least now I can let things progress in good conscience. It's the only thing that's changed.

But based on how crestfallen she looks, it doesn't seem like Elena's agreeing with that decision, and I know it for a fact when she says, "Then why didn't we?"

Here we go.

"Elena, guess what you're doing tonight?" April asks cheerfully as she comes around the corner, making a face at the bags of raw chicken before leaning against the prep table and crossing her arms.

Elena tilts her head at me, and I arch my eyebrow back at her before setting her down. She turns towards April, then lightly elbows me in the stomach as I stand behind her.

"Attention, please," April commands and I roll my eyes. "So, in honor of _someone _having her birthday, me and the rest of the staff want to take you out to an eighteen-and-up club tonight after work. Dance, have fun, flip off the bouncers as you show them your ID, those kinds of 'adult' things."

I snort and Elena peeks up at me. "That sounds awesome," she tells April sweetly. "But let me think about it."

"Yeah, you can think about what you're going to _wear_," April tells her with a smile and then spins on her heel, heading back up front.

Elena waits until April's gone before she sighs and then turns to face me, crossing her arms. I wrinkle my nose at her and no dice. Not even a hint of a smile.

"Okay, what's the score," I say and wave my hands at myself. "Daddy has a pony and an inflatable wonderland at the house, Bonnie and Dumbass are throwing you a kegger, or you had grand plans to sit in your closet and read comic books?"

She smacks my shoulder.

"Jane Austen, my bad…"

She groans, then turns and heads into the walk in. I follow her and as she reaches for a box of onions, I pinch the back of her shirt and pull her back against me. I hug my arms around her, and she takes a deep breath.

Not good.

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly, even though I already know the answer but I'd rather hear her say it, and she shrugs. "Elena…"

"You weren't supposed to know but you _do_, and you're fine with being apart."

"I _never _said that."

If I had my way I'd see her as often as possible outside of work, but I can't because it's not just her age that's been a problem. It's mine too. Because if her father were to find out that his daughter was seeing someone who is twenty-one and legally allowed to drink, the shit would hit the fan.

Elena and I had a very long and serious talk on the phone one night about whether we would confront him once we were past her birthday, and after her tearfully promising me that she's not ashamed, it's just that it's difficult, she decided that we shouldn't say anything either way. And I know how much she hates lying to him, and I loathe being another source of stress for her, but we both know that to her dad it won't matter how old she is, only that I'm too old for _her._ The worst part is that his shadow looming behind us keeps me separated from her entire life outside of work. I think Bonnie knows about me, but that's it.

I sigh, then pull her a little closer. "Honestly, I figured you were busy."

"Well, I'm not," she says shortly. "I'm doing the family thing tomorrow afternoon because of work and Bonnie and I are going to hang out tomorrow night, but that's it."

I nod. "Okay. So what's wrong with us going out with April and the rest of those yahoos? You love them and you're their _queen_," I drawl teasingly, squeezing her a little. "Or do you not think that he'll let you go?"

Her dad is strict as all hell about curfew, which is calculated to be just enough time for Elena to drive straight home after work. And it's effectively destroying my life because that means I can _maybe _get two minutes with her after we close the store before I have to watch her drive away.

"No, that should be fine," she says, but she still sounds upset. "But is that what you want to do, be surrounded by a whole bunch of other people? You…" She shakes her head, her voice suspiciously thick. "Why don't you want to be alone with me, Damon?"

I turn her around, wincing when I see that her eyes are sparkling even though she's fighting like crazy against her tears. Christ, I so didn't mean for her to cry.

I drape her arms around my neck, leaning my forehead against hers as my hands settle on her hips. "Listen to me for a minute," I say gently, and she nods. "I know you're frustrated with me, but things _are _going to change."

"Okay," she agrees.

"But," I continue, "those things will change when it's right, not just because we _can_."

"That's not fair, Damon. You're punishing me for something that's not my fault."

"I am _not_ punishing you," I say seriously. "I am trying—"

"I know, I know," she says a little grumpily. "And I appreciate it. I do. I know you're only doing this because you care but…" She purses her lips, and I tighten my grip on her.

"I know, _believe me, _Elena. But we didn't wait this long to have sex in a bathroom or in the backseat of a car."

She cracks half a grin, then blows out a breath and lightly shakes me. "Sometimes, I wish you were more of a jerk."

I smile. "I'll remember that. But back to tonight, tell me what you want."

She sighs. "I don't really care, as long as I'm with you."

"You will be with me. I'll just be wearing better clothes."

She smiles a little and I bump my nose against hers.

"Damon…" she says softly, her arms winding closer around my neck as she stretches up.

"Mm-hmm."

"What if I said I wanted you to kiss me?"

I grin. Her lips are barely a breath away from mine, and there's nothing stopping me now. My palm leaves her hip to cup her face, my thumb sweeping over the softness of her cheek and very carefully, I close the distance between us so my bottom lip faintly touches her upper one and then I quickly pull back. I barely resist from chuckling when I see her eyes are wide in shock that I didn't actually kiss her.

Right, like the first time that happens is going to be in the walk in.

"Damon, delivery!" Ric calls from the kitchen, and he is so getting a bottle of bourbon for the perfect timing award.

"I gotta get on the road." I smirk and smoothly slide my hand into her back pocket, stealing back my car keys before I step away, turning back just in time to catch the bell pepper that she hurls at me.

"God! You are such a—"

"Elena…" I say seriously, pointing the vegetable at her as she arches an eyebrow. "Be aware that when I make all this up to you, and I will, I'm _really_ going to make it up to you."

I carefully toss the bell pepper back and after she catches it, she crosses her arms before tilting her head at me coyly.

"Promise?" she asks, and I nod.

"Multiple times. And it's gonna last a lot longer than fifteen minutes."

She blushes adorably as I wink at her, then stroll away.

I can't fucking wait to keep my word.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty, kinda a short chapter but an important one for what it brings next, and don't forget to hit those buttons after you leave me a few excited squeals of glee because you never know when the next chapter is gonna pop up! *cough/soon/cough* Stay safe and be kind to one another!**

**-Goldnox**


	11. Lovely Little Ripples

**A/N: So...this was supposed to go up tomorrow, but then things happened with unicorns and bacon and a deal is a deal. I have no resistance to peer pressure, it's sad.**

**TROGDOR19, I LOVE YOU. that is all i have to say about that. EXCEPT THAT I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE THE BEST BETA EVER.**

**Alright, we ready for this? Buckle up, kiddos...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Lovely Little Ripples**

My hands drift down the curve of Elena's waist, feeling all of the emerald satin top she's wearing while she rolls her hips and spine and her entire little body back against me; her hands coming up to thread into my hair as mine continually slide lower, petting the tops of her thighs through the jeans she must have sewn on because even with as slender as she is, there's no other way these should fit her.

And I'm a goner. Because in this world there is cute, there is hot, and then there is _her, _and for some fucking reason we're in a crowded public place with no relief in sight and I've never felt more stupid for agreeing to this.

After work we all settled on the plan that first we needed to go home and change clothes, and then meet in the parking lot of the club that April, Tyler, Matt and Jesse wanted to take Elena to for her birthday. And I knew she would look amazing because that's what she does, but when I parked my car beside hers in the back of the lot and then walked over to where they were waiting in line, I never expected _this_. The best part is that I keep thinking how it should be illegal for her to look this tempting, and the knowledge that it no longer is…it's almost more than I can stand.

She turns and wraps her arms around my neck, her lip gloss shining under the lights while she pops and grinds to the beat before I grab behind her knee and hook her leg over my hip and I swear to God, if I thought we had problems with sexual tension before, it's nothing compared to right now and if she keeps riding me like this she could probably finish me off on the dance floor without even trying. And I've never been into the whole dirty dancing thing, but I will dance with this girl any time, any place, any way she wants me to.

I dip a little lower and she arches back with a moan that only I hear, then she pulls in closer as I slip my hand under her long straight hair and cup the back of her neck. She's a little sweaty and I love it, want to know it and taste it and strip her down bare and lay her out before me so I can see every inch of her wickedly tight body in all its glistening glory because she feels like pure sex and my dick is as hard as iron. And she knows it, I know she does, because she's continually rubbing against me like she wants it and fucking hell do I want to give it to her.

"God, baby," she pants and my eyes roll back because she only calls me that when she's desperate for me to touch her, and when she shifts so my cock is perfectly centered between her thighs, I know I'm right and I hate clothes. Hate them so much. "What are we even doing here?"

"No fucking clue," I admit and pull her in tighter, and she sucks in a breath as her head falls back. I can't resist it and I bend to kiss her neck, my tongue stealing a taste that makes her shiver and I'm never going to be able to stop.

Christ, how am I supposed to stop?

"Not here," she tells me and I groan, righting us and releasing her leg back down before I make some divinely stupid mistakes. But I also can't keep from touching her and even though my hands are learning the curves of her body under the pretense of some sort of expressionistic art form that she wants to dedicate her life to, I have to try to get myself, get us, under control.

"Water," I suggest, and she nods. "You stay, I'll go."

"No," she pleads and shakes her head, her hands cradling my jaw in a command to stay even as I nod. Because I know that if I don't make myself step away for at least a minute then I'm going to have her in my car by the next, and then naked in my bed after another dozen or so, and that's not supposed to happen tonight. I can't for the life of me remember why, but I know it's not supposed to.

"I'll be right back."

"Right back," she breathes at me, and I brush a kiss against her cheek before glancing around until I see most of our group.

Jesse is missing and Tyler's busy with April, but Matt is pretty much free and when I jerk my chin at him, he comes right over.

"Hitting the bar," I tell him over the music, and he nods once before I spin Elena out under my arm, waiting until Matt has her so I know she's safe while I'm busy.

"You can't just pass me off, you jerk," Elena says with a mocking glare, and I snort.

"Just did."

I wink and she rolls her eyes at me, but then smiles sweetly at Matt when he twirls her out dramatically. I wait until she's not looking before I point at him threateningly and when he laughs, I go ahead and step away, beginning to work a path through the crowd. I'm a few feet away when I can't resist chuckling to myself since in a small, backwards way, I got one of my wishes fulfilled tonight. Because there's no possible way she could ever be cold in here with all the warm bodies rubbing up against each other.

She is _finally_ warm.

I barely resist the urge to fist pump.

When I get to the bar I quickly order a bottle of water, and then decide to say screw it and add a single shot to my order because it's my girl's birthday and I'll be damned if I'm not going to celebrate a little extra, despite the fact that she can't drink with me. It arrives and silently and alone, I toast Elena, because she totally fucking deserves it.

"Where's my shot, greedy?" a voice behind me asks as I throw back the liquid, and when I check who it is, my eyes pop with my grin.

"Who let you this close to a bar?" I ask cheerfully, earning myself a long and more than welcome hug from Rose.

She lived next door to me the entire time when we were growing up, at least until her parents got divorced and her mom moved them into another neighborhood. But Rose and I kept in touch through school and we've always been cool, except for a few rough years when we had a major falling out.

She had no problem making it known that she didn't care for my loose-zippered antics with her friends, and at the time I was enough of an asshole not to give a damn whether she liked me sleeping with them or not, especially considering she and I have never even glanced towards entering romantic territory. But _now_ I totally get why she was pissed, and she was sweet enough to forgive me after losing Dad switched my personality and lifestyle back into who I was when she knew me the first time around.

We still run into each other every now and then, but despite our promises, we always seem to lose touch. And it sucks because she's awesome and one of the few people that just gets me.

"Look at you," she says when she pulls back, flicking at the collar of my navy button down. "Tell me you're married with six kids before I steal you for the night." She winks and I laugh easily.

"Actually I'm here with my girlfriend," I tell her, and her mouth gapes.

"You mean you managed to loosen those wires sealing your jaw shut for long enough to land yourself in a relationship?"

"Texting helps," I say smoothly and Rose rolls her eyes. "What have you been up to? Marry a billionaire and adopt a farm of Chia Pets?"

"Oh so you saw the announcement in the newspapers, did you?"

"Picture was great," I play along, and she swats at my shoulder.

I chuckle and wait while she orders two shots from the bartender.

"I'm glad I ran into you," she says more seriously. "I tried to call a few months ago, but I guess the number I had was old."

"Happens," I tell her and she shrugs.

"Anyway, I'm a logistics coordinator for a trucking company now."

My eyes widen. "Nicely done," I tell her and she smiles.

"Thanks. We mostly contract out for major couriers: FedEx, UPS, we do some local too, but not much." I nod, and she gets right to the point. "But I wanted to find you because we're always looking for good drivers."

"You mean cheap," I tease, and she laughs.

"Not_ that_ cheap. You still on the road?"

"Always," I tell her, and she nods.

"That's what I thought. Seriously though," she says and digs a business card out of her purse, then hands it to me. "Give me a call if you're ever looking to switch it up."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell her, sliding the card into my wallet before I put it back in my pocket.

Rose smiles and leans forward. "You're not going to call me for a job, are you?"

"I work with my girlfriend," I tell her, then grin. "Can't put a price on that."

"Touché, Salvatore. Touché."

She picks up her shot glass and hands me the other, then holds hers up a little higher. "To love before money, which begs the question: what the fuck are you thinking?"

I laugh loudly as she touches her shot glass to mine before we both throw back the liquid that immediately burns like acid and tastes like earwax, and I groan.

"What the hell was that?"

"I have no idea, but I want another. Yo!" she calls out to the bartender and then whistles to get his attention, and I snort.

"I gotta get back. Take care of yourself."

"You too," she says, then leans forward to kiss my cheek as I return the gesture. "And call me about that job!"

"Call a cab," I tell her and walk away, hearing her mutter something about me being a smartass.

I make my way back through the crowd and it takes twice as long since everyone in here is steadily getting drunker as the night goes on, but when I get back to where I left Matt and Elena, I don't see them. I do a quick scan of the dance floor and spy Tyler and April, and methinks work is gonna be a little awkward on Monday because something is definitely about to happen which will probably be regretted by one or both of them. I keep looking around for Matt since he's taller than Elena and easier to spot, but I'm still not seeing either of them and the longer I look, the more everything in me turns cold and panicked. I finally find Jesse, but he's wrapped up in some other chick and this is not good. Where the fuck are they?

I make my way to Tyler as quickly as possible, April pulling away from him a little like she's embarrassed but I couldn't care less right now.

"Where's Matt and Elena?" I ask quickly and Tyler shrugs, then pulls April back into him. Asshole.

"I thought she was with Matt?" April asks, and I roll my eyes.

I pull out my phone and call Elena while I'm still scanning the dance floor, but it's just steadily ringing and my mind is racing and I can't believe—

"Matt!" I yell when I see him coming out of the men's room, cursing and hanging up when I hear Elena's voicemail click on as I make my way towards him. "Where is she?"

He clears his throat. "Elena saw you getting all buddy-buddy with Long Legs McGee by the bar, and she bailed."

She's okay.

I blow out a breath.

Then I realize that she's _fine_ and that's just freaking fantastic because now I can now be pissed as all hell at her for disappearing and then dodging my call. There's reasonable, and then there's ridiculous, and this is beyond both of those.

"And you let her leave?"

Matt scoffs. "As opposed to what?"

I shake my head and glance at my phone in my hand, and I almost call her again, but I don't.

"You may be able to catch her, Damon, she just—"

I don't wait for him to finish before I shove the bottle of water at his chest and then I'm making my way outside.

She's not hard to spot: long hair swinging down her back with every angry step she takes, the few lights in the parking lot glinting off her green silk top. And as I watch, debating whether or not to move, I take a chance. I call her again and wait, then see her pull her phone out and check it before sliding it back into her pocket, and my decision has been made for me.

I punch the end button and haul ass to catch up to her, slowing down but still at a furious pace when I'm a few steps behind.

"Elena!" I call out sharply, and she just keeps on going.

"Leave me alone, Damon," she yells back over her shoulder. Then adds sarcastically, "Which shouldn't be hard for you…"

"And that's supposed to reference _what _exactly?" I lengthen my strides and it doesn't take more than a few seconds before I'm in front of her and she grinds to a halt, Elena lifting her chin as she glares up at me with her arms crossed.

"It means that I'm sick of you screwing with me and leading me on when it's obvious you have no intention of pursuing an _actual_ relationship between us. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired and I'm going home."

My eyes narrow, temper flaring beyond restraint. "You're tired? _I'm_ fucking tired," I bite off and Elena's eyes widen. Only one other time have I ever raised my voice around her, and it infuriates me when I realize that happened in another parking lot. This stuff has got to stop going down in public places. "We both know I don't deserve you ditching me in some melodramatic snit, but if you want to leave, you go right ahead."

"Excuse me?" she screeches. "God, you really do think that you're just perfect, don't you?"

"I'm not saying I'm perfect, only that for _six months_, Elena, I have done nothing but be supportive of you, and all you've done was to continually refuse to show even a _hint_ of consideration about the position that you're putting me in. I've treated you with respect every step of the way, and you haven't done the same for me."

"What the—" She tugs her hands through her hair, then points at me daringly. "Are we or are we not following all of _your_ rules? And yes, I may complain about it a little—"

"Ha!" I burst out incredulously.

"You know what? All of this is your fault!"

"My fault?" I shout back. "What the fuck did I do? What the fuck did I _ever_ do but—"

"You kissed her!" she screams, and I reel back. And I'm so shocked, so confused, that I don't even consider backing away when Elena storms towards me, her eyes glistening while she starts to swat and bat at my arms and chest while choking out, "You were supposed to be different! You were supposed to be better! You knew, _you knew_ what he did because you were with me after it happened and you won't touch _me_ or kiss _me_ but you _still_ did the same damn thing! God, Damon, how could you do this?"

I let her swing until she gives up with a defeated huff, then she turns away, taking a shaky breath and swiping at her eyes while I try to put the pieces together, but I'm completely lost.

"Elena," I say quietly, "I didn't kiss anyone."

She scoffs, then peeks back at me over her shoulder. "You really don't get it, do you?"

I don't move, don't say anything, and when she turns and faces me, I swallow.

"The girl you were flirting with at the bar? You kissed her cheek, Damon. And yes, I know it sounds stupid because it's not like you slept with her, but we've been…for _months _now, and that's all you've ever given me."

Guilt sinks heavy in my stomach, and Elena steps a little closer.

"And you don't even do it that often," she tells me dejectedly, and I make myself contain my wince.

Because she's right.

"Only when it's important," she continues, "when everything between us gets to be too much because you're making us wait and I get why, Damon, I do, but when you do that, it's _special._"

"Elena, what happened with Rose was different. It doesn't mean the same and I'm—"

"No," she cuts me off and shakes her head. "I'm…I'm so _exhausted_," she says, her voice cracking with strain and it kills me because I know she is, no matter how hard she always tries to hide it. "And I care about you so much, but every time I take a step closer to you, you push me away. And I've accepted the fact that I feel more for you than you do for me, especially since I liked you first and it's always _me_ that calls _you_ and_ I_ send the first texts and that's all fine, but at the same time, I need to feel like you're choosing _me_ instead of letting everything else come between us. I just…I need _you_."

Her hands fall to her sides like she's giving up, and I can't believe it. I can't fucking believe it because I know this argument so well, I've seen it and heard it and lived vicariously through it for years and years thanks to my brother and Caroline and despite all that, I didn't see this coming, I didn't prevent this.

It's unreal: I tried to do all the right things, for all the right reasons, and somehow, I still made the same wrong choice.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly while I'm still rooted in shock, then she turns and takes the last few feet towards her car and everything in me wants to go deep, wants to block it, to push it all away because it hurts _so much_ that she's right in front of me, and never has she felt further away.

I watch as she stops in the space that separates our parked cars, standing between her driver's door and my passenger one, and when she takes a deep, steadying breath as she pulls her car keys out of her pocket, I know what I have to do.

Because it's not about right and wrong, timing or locations or numbers or any of the bullshit that has kept me from seeing what she needs,_ really_ needs from me, and I stride quickly towards her until I'm close enough to turn her around and face me.

"Damon, I can't do—"

"No! You're going to listen to me because if I'm staring down the possibility that you may never speak to me again, then I'm going to make sure that you leave knowing exactly how I feel about you!" I shout, and I try to slow down, but I can't and it all comes out in one long desperate rush when I tell her, "God, Elena, do you even realize that I have liked you since the first time I rang your doorbell a year ago? And I never expected that learning your name and everything about your life would become the most important thing in mine, but it _is_, and the only reason that you're the one that calls me first is because I can't afford to do anything except make sure that every step I take between us is nothing short of _perfect_. Because that's what you deserve," I growl as she gapes at me. "That's what _you_ give to the world and to _me_, and you deserve better than being kissed for the first time in a fucking walk in, and you certainly deserve better than me telling you that I'm in love with you while we're outside of some stupid nightclub, but that's the real truth."

"I…" she trails off, her eyes wide in shock as I try to catch my breath. "You…you can't just say that to me when I'm mad at you!" she yells, and I stand a little taller.

"Are you going to leave?" I ask starkly, my heart pounding so loud in my chest that I can't hear anything else, and she shakes her head at me like she has no idea what to say. "Thank God," I exhale, and then I kiss her.

And it takes me a second to realize that it's happening: that my mouth is pressed to hers and our lips are folded into each other's like they already knew where to go, my touch light as breath on the edge of her jaw as I tilt her face up towards mine. And I know when the realization settles over Elena because I can feel her whole body soften: her weight shifting down like a sigh and then back up like she wants more, her palm settling on the center of my chest. But it's…she's not pushing me away_ or _pulling me closer, she's just sort of feeling me, like she's making sure I'm real.

Slowly, I pull back enough to see her eyes, and she blinks a few times. She opens her mouth like she's going to say something, but then she closes it again like she's confused. She swallows, her brow furrowed, then she opens her mouth again and I hold my breath.

"You kissed me."

She says it like it's the most unfathomable thing to have ever happened, like the sky turning inside out and grass dissolving into water.

"I did." And my voice is a little more breathless than I would like, but freaking sue me because I've been waiting to do that _forever_.

And I still say standing in the parking lot of some shitty night club while we're in the middle of a fight is not how I would have preferred for all of this to happen, but it's done and the only way forward is fucking _forward._

The corner of my lips pulls up. "I'm going to do it again, too," I tell her boldly, and she blinks at me some more.

"Okay," she says slowly, like she's dazed, and I smile.

I take my time, now that I have it, because I know I can do better than what I just gave her and I'm actually kinda pissed about that, so I brush my fingertips from her temple down to her cheek, tucking away her loose hairs that are getting caught in the breeze. I take her chin under my thumb, just looking her over and enjoying the exact shade of her eyes, the smoothness of her skin and the curve of her lips. She sucks in a breath when my other palm settles on her lower back and encourages her slightly closer, her chest brushing against mine under her rapid breaths.

I smile a little more as my thumb sweeps over her lips in the way I've done many times before, but I've never kept that promise like I'm about to. My hand moves to gently cup her face as I bend down to her: the angle perfect and the speed precise, my voice breathing her name into her lips before they meet and a past life tells me that I'm supposed to be paying attention to the pressure, to the amount of time before I move and which way I'm supposed to shift but all I can think about is Elena. That I'm kissing the lips that constantly bring laughter to mine, the way they look when pulled down in an exaggerated pout and how they sparkle when she still has on her competition lip gloss after a dress rehearsal and I'm completely entranced by them.

And I know that at some point my arms must have moved because she's suddenly wrapped up in them, her back slightly arched under me as she presses up, but I'm not sure when that happened, when having her with me became my definition of _whole_. And I know that Elena's arms are wound around me just as tightly: one over my shoulder and the other around my waist with her hands trying to find each other somewhere in the middle, but I don't recall that happening either, when she decided that I fit with her despite everything else declaring that I don't.

What I _do_ know is that she tastes like comfort and warmth, a little bit dark and tempting but somehow still sweet. She is exactly what she always has been, a scent that I knew before I knew that I knew it: rich exotic mocha and honey toasted almonds, and a smile so addicting that it can't possibly be real, except that it is. And I know that at some point I begin to recognize the texture of her, to feel the rhythm of her moans and delineate them as they only belong to her, but the start of it all is lost somewhere in the hazy middle and honestly, it doesn't matter because it doesn't make it any less than what it is.

Ripples, it's all just ripples.

One little movement that stretches into more while creating a whole new world that's descended from them, and they don't stop forming. Not when she whispers my name like she has to say it or else the letters will burn inside of her forever, not when I press her up against her car and the alarm goes off but we don't care, other than to lightly laugh together because it's exactly like we always knew it would be, like it always has been: impossible to stay away.

But somehow I manage to separate us for a moment so I can look down at her, smiling comfortingly as she blushes until she begins to smile back.

"Do I have lip gloss on me?" I ask playfully, and she breathes a laugh.

"A little." She swipes her thumb over my bottom lip, then stretches up and kisses it like she can't resist, and when she rocks back down on her heels, she shrugs. "I think it's a lost cause."

"Totally okay with that."

"You better be," she says with a smile, her shoulders relaxing like she just escaped twenty years of stress.

She slides her arms around my waist, laying her head on my chest with a contented sigh and I hug her back tightly, my fingertips massaging her scalp as we both exchange silent apologies, our slowing breaths and heartbeats declaring how we don't want to fight anymore, that there is nothing to fight about anymore.

Except for how Elena is always telling me that I give the best hugs, and I disagree. Because hers are better and there's no way for her to know that.

"Besides," she whispers when she leans back a minute later to look up at me. "Don't you know that lip gloss is how women stake their claim?"

"So, you're claiming me now?" I tease, then she shrugs one shoulder as she bites her lip, her hands fidgeting nervously with the back hem of my shirt.

"Are _you_ claiming me?"

I tilt my head like I'm pretending to consider it, even though by my count all this claiming business took place months ago but if she needs to hear me say it, I'm happy to tell her. She faintly pinches my side at my pause and I hiss through my teeth, then chuckle before my voice drops lower, gentler. "I'm claiming you," I tell her softly, and her cheeks flush like crazy.

"Took you long enough."

"Yeah, but better late than never." I wink and then lean down to her, kissing her slow and deep because I want to and I can, and I'm going to do everything in my power to never stop giving her what she needs, what we both need.

But my grand plans get interrupted when her phone goes off in her back pocket, the ringtone growing steadily louder and when she pulls away, I groan. She takes out her phone and silences the alarm, and when she looks at me I already know what she's going to say.

"I have to go…"

"You didn't hear it," I suggest. "Music and dancing and your phone was in your car so it wouldn't get stolen—"

"_Damon,"_ she says, and I blow out a breath. But I feel a little better when she re-wraps her arms around my neck and stretches up on her toes, my forehead leaning against hers as my palms settle on her hips. "Two minutes…"

"Five," I counter and she shakes her head.

"And I'm not trying to start a fight, I swear, but…who was that girl?" she whispers, and I lift a kiss from her lips, loving that I can.

"Rose?" I confirm, and Elena nods. "Old old friend, like pre-puberty old. Haven't seen her in years."

"Oh," Elena says, just like that, and my eyebrow arches suspiciously. "Then you should try to keep in touch more. You don't have her number?" she asks, and I barely resist scoffing since ten minutes ago Elena was ready to claw her friggin' eyes out.

"Actually, she gave it to me tonight," I say and clear my throat. "She wanted to offer me a job and didn't know how to get ahold of me."

Elena's eyes widen a little, and I tilt my head at her. "Are you going to take it? I mean…if it's a good job then you should totally consider—"

"Elena," I cut her off, then lower my voice. "I'm not quitting."

She bites her lip to hide her smile, her cheeks dusting pink with exactly the answer I expected. "Can't resist sorting those chicken wings, huh?"

"You know it," I say lightly. "Besides, if I'm not there to do it, the store is screwed. It's not like you've ever sorted a chicken wing in your life."

"Shush."

I do just that as Elena kisses me once before turning away like she's going to leave, but then spins back and steals two more, and when she sighs with a curse and comes back the third time it's with no abandon and I think this is probably the most fun game ever to be invented.

"I gotta go!" she says around a laugh, but is still accusing me like this is my fault. So I happily own my blame, my mouth secured to hers even as she stumbles back against the side of her car.

It takes her three times to hit the right button on her key ring before the doors unlock because my tongue is letting hers know exactly what she's leaving behind, and when she finally gets the door open enough to slide in, her hands being locked into the front of my shirt ensure that I come with her: her body stretching horizontally back across the driver's seat and console until her hair is beginning to pool in the passenger's side. I reach towards her dash to brace myself and move higher over her body, but my middle finger hits her engine's start button and the V8 rumbles to life beneath us.

"What happened to good old American _keys_?" I mutter into her lips and she laughs softly, shaking her head even as her hands start raking up my back.

"BMWs are German, Damon."

"Sounds like unpatriotic bullshit to me," I drawl and Elena giggles, kissing me even while she pushes me out of her crossover.

I stand beside her open door and she goes to sit up, smiling coyly. "You know, you're kinda making it impossible for me to leave and—"

Her voice cuts off with a squeak when I grab behind her knees and yank her towards me, her silk shirt and jeans sliding easily across the leather interior. I duck back inside her car and her body melts underneath mine, her legs steadily tightening over my hips while her moans tumble down my throat and she's not going anywhere.

Until her phone's alarm begins ringing again and just…_fuck._

I anchor my palm on her headrest and tuck my other hand under her back, very carefully guiding her to sit up as I lower myself down until I'm practically kneeling outside her door. But when I try to pull away she's having none of it, and she slips smoothly off the seat and straight into my lap, straddling me on the ground like there's nothing insane about this at all. At least we're at the back of the lot, protected on both sides by our cars.

"I really have to go," she whispers into my lips even as her hands cradle my jaw, and I nod, my arms locked around her waist.

"Then go…" I breathe back, but she only responds by dipping her tongue deeper inside my mouth and when she does that, my hands have no choice but to drift down to her ass and pull her tighter against me as I dare to thrust up, causing her head to fall back under a moan.

"_Oh God,_ just…five more minutes, baby," she pants as my lips trail a line up her delicate neck, but I startle when someone starts to clap and cheer.

Elena squeaks and turns her face away from the gawkers while my head whips towards them, finding Tyler and Matt high-fiving each other while April's eyes are huge and her hands are covering her mouth, Jesse looking like he can't decide if he wants to make a smug crack or just be embarrassed about what they're interrupting and this is way too far, even for them.

"Do you mind?" I snap and April walks off, tugging Jesse along with her and then snagging Matt's sleeve when he fails to follow.

"Not at all," Tyler tells me and I flip him off. "Happy birthday, Elena," he calls out and she turns towards him, mostly hiding in my neck when she waves and then faces back the other direction.

He laughs and gives me two thumbs up before walking off with the rest of them, and I shake my head as I run a hand down her hair.

"They're gone," I tell her quietly, and she checks to make sure I'm telling the truth before giving me one quick kiss and then standing up abruptly.

"Hey!" I protest with a laugh, then rise and pull her back against me as she giggles and squirms. "I've got three more minutes," I say seriously and she shakes her head at me with a smile.

"You're trouble, you know that?"

I nip at her lip and she sucks in a breath, then pushes at my chest and hops in her car in one smooth motion that no one except her would be able to pull off thanks to all those damn dance classes that I'm suddenly cursing.

"That was cheating!" I declare and she laughs, shutting her door as the window rolls down. I reach inside and grab her seatbelt, then lean in through the open window and brush my lips against hers, slowly drawing the strap down and across her body. I smile and swallow her gasp when my knuckles graze her breast on their way past, and she squeaks and jumps when I "accidentally" try to secure the seat belt in between the gap in her thighs. I pull it back out and tickle the metal hook over the top of her leg and then faintly tease her hip until I finally lock it closed, then pull back from her with a grin.

"_That _was cheating," she says breathlessly and I chuckle.

"Bye," I whisper, stealing another soft kiss from her before my voice drops protectively. "Call me if you get tired on the road."

"I will," she promises, and I smile.

I take one last taste, then tear myself away from her with a groan and stand back, leaning against my SS. She blows out a breath and flashes me a quick smile, then carefully backs out and I was right: girl has wrecked my whole damn world, and I couldn't be happier about it.

* * *

**A/N: SO. MUCH. FUN. I love these stupid idiots. *happy sigh* Okay, so I will probably see you guys again sometime next week, and may all your bacon be shaped like unicorns! (don't ask...oh wait, DO! ;) Stay safe and sweet! *blows kisses*  
**

**-Goldnox**


	12. Paying It Forward

**A/N: OMG YOU GUYS ARE AWESOMELY NUTS. AND I FLIPPING LOVE YOU LOL (except when you break my Pandora. then I get all angry face. GRRRR) **

**TROGDOR, WHERE ARE YOU? COME BACK TO ME! I NEED MY BETA! I SWEAR I'LL MAKE YOU WOODS IN MY LIVING ROOM SO YOU CAN PRETEND TO FROLIC IN THEM WHILE I RATTLE OFF IDEAS FOR YOU TO FIX BECAUSE OH MY GAWD I'M DYING WITHOUT YOU. WAAAAAAAAAAAAH! **

***clears throat***

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Paying It Forward**

I can't believe it was him. Of all the people, of all the doors I've knocked on, I never expected for him to be on the other side. Maybe when I first started delivering it crossed my mind that this could happen, but now? I mean…I haven't even thought about him—_them_—in years.

The surprise almost makes it worse, like getting your knee kicked out while you're looking up at the sky with some sappy grin on your face and thinking about how everything is finally falling into place. How your absolute failure by every measure of success ended up bringing you the best thing to ever happen in your hollow little life, and you can't help but to just stop and wonder at how you got this lucky. But that's where you fucked up, leaving yourself vulnerable to attack, because now you're getting the shit kicked out of you while—

"Damon!" Elena says strongly, and it jerks me into awareness. I glance down at her, and her brow is furrowed and head tilted as she looks up at me, one of her hands resting idly on the open register and the other on the center of my chest. I swallow and her palm moves up to cup my face, her thumb sweeping over my cheekbone. "What's going on with you today?" she asks quietly, and I shake my head.

I cover her hand with mine, squeezing it once before I pull it away and step towards the kitchen, and I hear as she sighs behind me while I drop off the empty warming bags and grab the next round of deliveries. I chew the inside of my lip as I check over the addresses, just waiting because any second she's gonna start griping about the fact that whenever she asks me how I am, I dodge.

It's not that I try to deflect, it's just that apart from Elena being in it, my life is boring and there's nothing to say. I get up, run a few miles to escape a Caroline and Stefan argument, then go to work and wish that I could figure out a way to spend more time with Elena before I concede defeat and go back home, alone. But today when I actually have an answer that's far from the usual blandness, I just…I don't want to talk about it.

I grab the last warming bag and straighten, finding Elena leaning against the register with her arms crossed. But instead of looking frustrated or disappointed, she smiles soothingly as I walk towards her, and I don't get it. I'm being an ass, have been pretty much all night, and I'm not trying to take it out on her but this happened while she was at school and my head has been fucked up ever since.

I clear my throat, knowing I should try to tell her something so she knows this has nothing to do with her or us, especially since apart from the constant exasperation that we still haven't found a single minute together outside of work and our uniforms, things have been great. At the very least I could apologize for forgetting every single coupon tonight, which has to be pissing her off like crazy.

"Elena—"

"Drive safe," she tells me sweetly, handing me the tip from my last delivery before she pushes off the counter, going to answer the phone when it starts ringing.

I slide the cash into my pocket, the weirdest mix of guilt and comfort swirling through me when she smiles and winks at me over her shoulder, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other flying over the touch screen with expert precision. And I could probably stand here all night and just watch her, admiring her grace while she multitasks and never lets her voice reveal the chaos that she's dealing with, but I have to get back on the road.

I take a breath that's too much grease and not enough of her lotion before I turn and head out the side door, trying to remember if my dad was still looking at my mom that way up until the day she left him for that overly-tanned douchebag. The one that I had the pleasure of delivering to this afternoon.

* * *

I'm back at the store an hour later and magically, everything is even worse than before. I storm in through the side door and when it rebounds off the wall with a crash, Elena jumps: the half-folded box that was in her hands dropping to the floor. I wince at startling her and neither of us says anything when I chuck the empty warming bags on the rack and then stop in front of her, picking up the box and throwing it away before I pull out my receipts and slap them down on the counter before heading back outside to my car.

I have a stack of dishes to wash and a floor to sweep and mop and an entire sleeve of boxes to fold before I can leave for the night, and the last thing I want to be doing is changing this goddamn flat tire because some genius decided to break a beer bottle on the street in front of his house and then _not _clean it up. And the air leak was slow enough that I was able to limp the car back to the store, but I can't go home and get appropriately drunk until I get this done, and I sure as shit am not going to want to change my tire after my checklist of closing duties.

I grab my jack and spare from my trunk, then change it out while cursing drunken morons and glass bottles and the light in our parking lot that keeps flickering every few minutes and is giving me a migraine while failing to provide any semblance of light whatsoever.

God, I hate this fucking day and I just want it to be over.

The side door opens just as I'm lowering the car back down and pulling the jack away, and I shake my head angrily.

"Ric, if you came out here to give me shit about needing to start the dishes I'm gonna beat the—"

"Easy there," Elena says softly, and my eyes close in shame when I feel her crouch down behind me.

My whole body is still vibrating with irritation and I really don't want her so close to me when I'm this on edge; the last thing I want to do is accidentally scare her again. But when she rests her hands on my shoulders, her cheek lying over the top of my spine, my jaw starts shaking and all the fight just melts right out of me and I can't bring myself to tell her to go.

"I brought you some water," she says, her voice clear and calm in the silence of midnight. "Can you believe it's been in the 90's already? It's barely May…"

I don't trust my voice so I don't say anything, and slowly, she kinda sways us from side to side like a lullaby, her thumbs massaging circles into my back.

"Will you come somewhere with me?" she asks quietly, and my brow furrows.

I want to ask her how we're supposed to manage that when she has to be home in half an hour, not to mention that I can't leave yet because I still have a mountain of stuff to do, but I don't know how to say any of that to her without sounding like a dick, so I stay silent.

But she must know what I'm thinking because after my pause, she whispers, "Everything is done, and Ric said we could both go."

I shift and look over my shoulder at her, my eyebrow arched suspiciously. "How is everything _done_?"

She shrugs. "It was slow, so I took care of it." My jaw drops and the corner of her lips pulls up. "What do you say, troublemaker? Wanna run away for a few minutes where no one can find us?"

"Always," I answer automatically. "But, Elena, you didn't have to do that…"

"I know, but it's done so there's no use bickering about it." She stands and holds out the water towards me, and I tilt my head at her.

"Don't you have to get home?"

"Craziest thing," she says lightly, then bats her eyelashes, "April's car died and she needed a lift. And she lives way out in the boonies, like, farther than I do, _and_ in the opposite direction, so I'm gonna be late. Dad said to be safe and to take my time on the back roads." She winks and tosses the bottle of water at me, and I breathe the first smile I've felt form in hours as she turns on her heel, then casually strolls back into the store.

I shake my head as I stand and take a long drink, then put away the jack and flat tire and try to let all the other crap from the day get sealed away when I lock my trunk. And when I go back inside, for some reason I'm still surprised to see that everything is clean and shut down, the sleeve of boxes already folded and the sink empty of dishes when I go to wash my hands. Ric comes out of his office and claps me on the shoulder, then goes to check that the back door is shut while I make my way up front, finding Elena slinging on her backpack before she faces me with a smile.

"Ready to go?"

"Lead the way," I tell her, and she blushes a little before walking past me, passing me a pizza box. "You scamming free food for your brother again?" I tease, holding open the side door for her, and she laughs quietly before she pivots, walking backwards across the parking lot.

"Not unless you ate on the road," she says, then turns back around. "That's for you."

Her car beeps twice while my eyes widen because_ I'm_ always the one that makes us food, but I didn't have the time tonight. She opens her backseat door and sets her backpack inside, then shuts it and jerks her chin at me.

"Don't eat the breadsticks, and I'm driving."

I snort but she doesn't hesitate to slide into her seat, and I go ahead and say fuck it, making my way around to the passenger side.

"Where are we going?" I ask when she pulls out of the parking lot, and she flashes me a smile but then starts loudly humming to herself.

I roll my eyes affectionately and then open the pizza box, my head tilting with curiosity at the thing that looks like an oversized pita…but _not_. I look to Elena and she sneaks a not-so-subtle peek at me, and when I clear my throat with a grin she finally lets loose.

"Okay, so have you ever had a döner kebap?"

"I don't even know what _language_ you were just speaking."

"Jerk," she says and swats at me, and I flare my eyes at her mockingly. "And for your information, it's Turkish."

"Ah-ha."

"And if that was a real kebap then it would be lamb and beef roasted vertically on this massive three foot skewer thingy, but we don't exactly have that on our menu. So instead, you got thin crust transformed à la Elena into a makeshift pita, Italian sausage slices and pepperoni mixed with shredded salad mix, and then that all got tossed with some black olives, banana peppers and bell peppers and tomatoes and cheese and some vinaigrette salad dressing that I scored off Jesse's private stash that he keeps in the make table fridge. It should have had corn and cucumbers and feta, but _again,_ resources…"

"Resources," I mimic, totally in awe, and she shrugs.

"It's probably disgusting and you don't have to eat it, but I was craving a kebap and you hadn't eaten and we can just get you a burger or something even though I know you hate junk food and would rather eat vegetables for like every single meal since you're bordering on being a health freak and yeah…I should have just made you a salad or something," she mutters with a pout, and I just…

I lean over the center console and press a kiss into her cheek that I hope tells her what I can't begin to put into words, but I think she gets it because when I lean back, she is all flushed and acting like she's concentrating super hard on the red light we're sitting at.

"Thank you for making me a pizza salad pita."

"You're welcome," she says quietly, and I take a bite.

I chew and swallow, then set it back down in the box and turn towards her. I smile and reach over and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she risks a glimpse at me.

"Is it okay?" she asks timidly, and I really, really want to lie.

"Sweetheart, I can't tell you how nice it was that you made me dinner. But how about you let me do the cooking from now on, okay?"

She bursts out laughing, then glances at me with an apologetic pout. "That bad huh?"

"Disgusting," I admit. "But I love it anyway."

"_Damon,"_ she drawls like she's frustrated, "you don't have to be _so_ sweet _all_ the time. It's almost cause for suspicion."

I roll my eyes, and while she's busy turning onto a side street I pick up the Elena version of a kebap and take another bite. But I pause mid-chew when she gasps, and I look over to see her gaping at me.

"Stop eating it if it's gross!" She giggles and stretches over to steal it away from me, and I bat at her hand while holding the pizza pita out of her reach.

"This is mine," I mumble around a full mouth. "But I'll share if you say 'please.'"

She huffs and thankfully goes back to having both hands on the wheel, and I take another bite just to mess with her. And it works too because when she looks over and sees me happily chewing, she throws her hand up with a, "God! Can't you just like, I don't know, complain about me being clingy or whine about my driving or for _once_ say you'll call and then don't because you have no idea how hard it is on my friendship with Bonnie when she constantly bitches about her jerk boyfriend and I have to be like, 'Well, sucks for you because mine is _perfect_!'"

I sputter and choke on my laugh. "Let me get this straight," I say with a grin. "You _want _me to be a crap boyfriend? Damn, Elena, you should've explained that to me months ago."

I wink at her and she narrows her eyes at me playfully, leaning over to swat at me again. "I'm saying this for both our sakes. You spoil me friggin' rotten and it's gonna bite us both in the keister."

"Wow, not the keister," I deadpan and she snorts. "Incidentally, do you have any idea how crazy you sound?"

"Thank you!" she bursts out dramatically as though she's relieved, and I shake my head.

She really is nuts. And I can't get enough of it.

I close the box and set it on the floorboard, then sit back up with a yawn and stretch out a little more in the passenger seat, so thankful that she drives a full-sized crossover and not some matchbox little coupe because there's more than enough leg room for me to be comfortable. It also doesn't hurt that it rides like a cloud and she could probably bottom out in a pothole and it would feel like pinging a leaf. My car? You feel every single crack in the blacktop.

And normally I am the worst passenger you could ever be stuck with: I backseat drive and am always convinced I know a better route, and I have no problem telling you that your strut is going out on your front right tire when it is. Stefan now refuses to go anywhere in the same vehicle with me, even though it's not my fault his idle was set too fast, but I don't mind anything about Elena driving. And I definitely don't mind her car.

Maybe it's because the tricked out Germanic beast practically drives itself with all the sensors and cameras and the lane departure warning system on her heads up display, or maybe it's just that since she solidly aced driving my SS, I now have zero doubts about Elena's ability to handle anything with a running motor. Either way, I don't stop my eyelids from drooping closed when they want to, my body relaxing into creamy leather interior that I have no desire to know how much it cost her father when he paid for it.

But I let that nauseating thought leave me behind when Elena's nails begin combing through the hair by my temples, and I hum contentedly.

"Tired?" she asks softly, and I shrug, but then I realize that I'm basically dodging like I always do and I need to stop doing that. She's always telling me that Harvey Birdman was never as awesome as when he had Birdgirl with him, and as hard as it is to agree, I know she's right and that I need to rely on her more because we're supposed to be partners. But before I can fix it tonight, she says a little gentler, "We're here."

I open my eyes and look around, my smile growing at the lack of houses and anything else nearby. I glance over to a lip-biting Elena, and I tilt my head at her.

"I can't believe you remembered how to get here."

Her cheeks flush, and she shrugs one shoulder. "I've been back once or twice, and the first time I got really lost looking for it, but…yeah." She shifts in her seat, her hands twisting in her lap. "Is this okay?"

I grin and unbuckle my seatbelt, leaning over to cup her cheek in my hand and touching my forehead to hers. "Of course," I breathe, then my voice becomes lighter. "But you better have been taking very good care of my ducks or you're gonna be in big trouble."

She beams. "I promise I have. They're all fat and addicted to bread sticks."

I chuckle, then kiss her slow and sweet because I haven't done that nearly enough today.

"C'mon," she whispers, nuzzling her nose against mine, "let's go see them. They've missed you."

I let her go and pick up the box of breadsticks from her floorboard, then meet her by the trunk when she opens it. I watch as she digs through her dance duffel which appears to hold enough clothes for a week, then she gives up and starts poking through some of the other stuff she has piled up back here. Honestly, her car is a mess of clothes. Makes me wonder if her closet is empty.

She finally tugs out a big pink picnic blanket and drapes it over her arm, then shuts the trunk before winking at me. "Don't slip. It's a little steep and kinda slippery."

I chuckle at Elena's recitation of what I told her when I brought us here the night of her and Kol's big breakup, and after she takes my hand, I follow behind her when she begins carefully making her way down the slope.

"We gonna get a little dirty, too?"

"If we did, you'd get over it," she tells me over her shoulder. "But we won't because _I _brought a blanket."

"Showing me up?" I tease as we stop by the pond, Elena and I taking opposite corners of the blanket and stretching it out. "You really have to be the best at everything, don't you?"

"No idea what you're talking about," she says, then starts expertly quacking while I laugh and sit down.

She takes a seat next to me, her head resting against my shoulder while I tear apart the breadsticks and watch the ducks and ducklings make their waddly way towards us. Poor animals are probably so confused as to why we keep doing this to them at midnight.

"Hey, Quackerjack," Elena suddenly coos, tossing a chunk of bread at the fattest duck, and my eyebrow arches when she follows it up by asking, "where's Mr. Banana Brain?" A little duckling waddles up and peeks around the webbed foot of the first duck, and she tosses more bread at it with a satisfied, "There you are…" and I peer down at her.

"Once or twice you've been back, huh?"

"They were starving and feeling neglected…"

"Mm-hmm. And desperate to be named?"

"It's from _Darkwing Duck_, Damon. The best animated television show of the nineties."

I snort. "How can you possibly argue that during the decade of _Aeon Flux_?"

She sighs, tossing more bread towards the ducks. "Of course you would like the show about a barely dressed, leather-clad gymnast."

"She was an assassin," I remind her. "Whose entire ass happened to be showing," I add with a laugh and Elena smacks my leg.

I hand her the box of bread sticks, then lay back on the blanket and look up at the night sky, my fingertips lightly stroking up and down Elena's spine as she sits up beside me.

"Fine, just take it all, greedy little munchkins…" she grumbles, then dusts off her hands and lies down, curling into my side. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her once, just listening to the gently lapping water and the content quacks of well-fed ducks, losing myself in the feeling of Elena's hand resting on my chest.

I blow out a breath, and then I make myself say, "Ask me how my day was."

"How was your day?" she complies quietly, and my eyes pinch closed.

"Bad, Elena, it was really bad."

She doesn't say anything, and it takes me another minute to continue.

"I delivered to my—I guess he's my stepdad—today."

"Was your mom there?" Elena asks, her voice steady and soothing, and I shake my head.

"I don't know. I didn't see her."

Elena blows out a breath. She knows everything and it really, really pisses her off. It makes me mad too, but Elena, she just…she always goes off on a rant whenever the subject comes up.

She stays quiet this time, but I can feel her shaking and her breaths are a little quicker, and it helps so much to know she's angry for me, as much as I wish it didn't upset her. But it makes me feel like we're a team, like she always says we are.

"This little pre-teen girl answered the door," I continue and Elena sucks in a breath, "and the next thing I knew, he was standing right in front of me. And the worst part is…" I clench my jaw, then force the words out. "He didn't even recognize me. He had no idea who I was."

Elena scoots in closer, her hold on me tightening. "Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm sure," I tell her. "He was in the car the day she left, and I saw his face. Plus, the daughter looks just like her."

"Oh, Damon," Elena whispers, and I blink a little more than necessary.

"I just…I can't get my head around it. She bails on us, then has _more_ kids? Did she forget how much she sucks as a mom? Although, maybe it's just that she forgot we even exist considering her husband has no concept of what I look like. And unless she's showing him pictures that I doubt she even _has_, how would he know? Because has she contacted me once since she left? Fuck no."

"Hey," Elena says sternly, propping up on her elbow, and I look away. "Never, _ever,_ will I defend what she did, but I think you're forgetting something very important, Damon."

I scoff harshly. "She's the bitch, and you're going to come down on me for being pissed off about this?"

"I'm—"

"Thanks," I say sarcastically, and Elena's eyes narrow.

"I wasn't done. And you can disagree with what I'm about to say, but you're gonna hear my voice whether you want to or not," she snaps, and I sigh. "The thing is, Damon, her disappearing on you guys was beyond terrible. But that was years ago and people change, and even if she wanted to try to make it right, she _can't_. You moved out of the house, your phone number changed and she doesn't know where you work. She has no way to find you."

I look back to Elena, no idea where she's going with this and even more furious that she's _right._

"So this is what I propose," she says a little more gently, and I grit my teeth. "You can continue to be angry, and you have every right to be, or you can choose to _hope_. That yes, she does love you, and she probably misses you more than words can say, but that she is paying for her mistakes in the cruelest way imaginable."

"Elena…"

"I'm not saying contact her. I'm saying that you can decide whether or not to believe the best in someone, despite what they've proven to be in the past. In this situation, you can choose to feel abandoned, or you can choose to recognize that this is your decision. Because from this point forward,_ you_ have the control over whether or not to have a relationship with your mom. It's not her call, Damon. It's _yours_."

I blink at Elena, totally dumbfounded.

And after a minute she sighs, looking down at the nametag on my shirt and refusing to meet my gaze.

"Look, I know I'm probably saying the wrong things," she starts softly, but then her voice speeds up the more she continues. "And I'm sorry that you're hurting and it's not my place to tell you what to do or think because you're a grown man and I don't know the first thing about how to deal with any of this stuff, and you're probably going to dump me any second because I never should've opened my big fat mouth to begin with but I just—"

"You got an A in your Psych class, didn't you?" I interrupt, and her head whips up.

"What?"

"It's a joke," I explain, pillowing my head with one hand and brushing the back of my knuckles over her cheek with my other.

"A bad one," she mutters, and the corner of my lips pulls up.

"But those are the best kind," I whine teasingly, trying to reassure her, and she tilts her head at me.

"Quackers?"

I nod slowly and she lays back down, snuggling into me.

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to lord it over me forever?" I ask, and she shakes her head.

"Nope."

I chuckle and press a kiss into her forehead. "You're right," I admit. "And I am very glad that you don't know the first thing about how to deal with any of this. I'd much rather you have the better end of the experience bargain."

"You know what I think?" she asks, and I snort.

"Nope, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

She nips at my chest and I suck in a breath through my teeth. "You want to hear this or not?"

"I do."

"Okay," she agrees, then her voice becomes a little warmer. "I think that everything happens for a reason."

I roll my eyes where she can't see, then grin smugly. "Like me turning on the sign that read 'Now Hiring' just as you were driving by?"

I wink as she lifts her head because she swears that's what brought her in the day that she applied, and then very slowly, she shifts closer and kisses me. "Exactly like that," she says with a decisive nod when she pulls back. "But what I was going to say is that my life? It's pretty good."

"Rub it in, Elena."

"I'm gonna," she tells me flatly. "Your life? _Sucks_."

I burst out laughing, and she smiles as she shifts so she's on top of me: her knees hugging my hips and her chest pressing into mine when she stretches forward, her hands sliding up the blanket over my head.

"Doesn't suck so much right now…" I grin as I tickle my fingertips down her ribs, and she bumps my nose with hers.

"Well, that's the thing," she whispers into my lips. "I'm all about paying it forward. Golden Rule. Do unto others. All that jazz."

"That's a lot of jazz," I tell her and she giggles, kissing me once more before winding her hands under my arms to grip my shoulders, tucking her face into my neck with an exhale like she's never been more comfortable.

"You deserve all of it," she breathes. "If anyone deserves to be doted on, it's you. And I…" she trails off and then takes a deep breath, her hands tightening on my shoulders before she says very clearly, "_I_ love you, Damon."

I startle, then hug my arms around her, tenderly massaging her scalp because the sensation of her hair slipping through my fingers is the only thing keeping me grounded while I lay here in pure shock because she's never said that before.

I open my mouth to speak, but I'm totally lost for words because there's been more than one occasion when I couldn't resist telling her that I am desperately, crazy in love with her, and she always returns it with simply a smile. And I've been perfectly comfortable with her silence because I knew she wasn't ready to say it back, that she needed more time after everything Kol put her through.

But she _did_ say it, and I think the best part is that tonight, I didn't say it first.

"I want you to believe me," she says quietly, and I nod.

"I do," I promise and her lips lightly press into the space below my jaw as she scoots a little closer to me and it means everything, absolutely everything to me.

My eyes close as I let her words fill the space in my heart that was waiting for them, and now that they're here, more than ever I want her to feel in every way possible exactly how important she is, and there's never been a time that's felt more right than _right now_.

I swallow, then decide to go for it.

"You know what I think?" I tell her, and I feel her smile against my skin.

"Hmm?"

"I think you should be so very, very sleepy that you have to spend the night at April's house," I whisper, and Elena's shoulders shake under her silent laughter.

She sits up a bit and lays her palm against my cheek, her voice even more gentle than her smile when she tells me, "Not to feel _better_. Not the first time. But because we _already_ feel great."

I nod, because as much as it sucks, she's right. Again. "Fucking psychology," I tease, then hook a finger under her chin and bring her lips back to mine so she knows where I stand. And that's beside her, even if that means I'm still sleeping alone tonight.

But then she really is standing, tapping her watch-less wrist and I grunt, then get up. We fold up the blanket and she pushes it into my chest, then walks around my side and jumps onto my back with no warning. I laugh and adjust my grip on her as she winds her arms around me, holding the blanket in front of my chest while I hook my forearms under her knees.

"I don't recall offering to carry you," I drawl as I start making the way back up the slope, and Elena snorts.

"Told ya. I'm spoiled rotten and it's all your fault."

"Does that mean I get to drive so you can sit there and just look pretty?" I test, and she nips at my neck.

"Honey, the one thing you're never getting your hands on is my car keys."

"We'll see about that," I mumble, and she nips at me again. "Knock it off, Steelbeak!"

"Oh my God, you're so busted!" she exclaims excitedly. "You totally watched _Darkwing Duck_!"

"I plead the fifth…"

"Don't you mean you _quack_ the fifth?" she says eagerly, and I groan, pulling her legs tighter around me as she rests her chin on my shoulder.

And I can't help the smile that's pulling at the corner of my mouth because the funny thing is, I kinda _do_ feel like one of our chubby little ducks right now: peaceful and full, as far as possible from any concept of abandonment or neglect because Elena always knows how to give me everything I need.

Even if that means she bestows it quiet and unbidden, and sometimes, just after midnight.

* * *

**A/N: And that was example 17 of why I am totally a flipping DORK. God, it's embarrassing to share your weird obsession with animated TV shows. BTW, anyone who hasn't seen Bob's Burgers should be watching it. Because it is awesome. But, back to the story. YAY! Elena is 18 and they're in love and everything is gravy! Let's just stop here! Oh, wait, what's that? You're anxious for sexy times? Psshaw! Who wants sex in a story? Y'all are whacked. *FLASH/SARCASM/FLASH* See you soon! And in the meantime feel free to spam my ask account (link on profile page) and see what all the hubbub was about with the unicorns and bacon, and watch me fail to provide any answers worthy of being read by the human race. Ready, set, go! And in the meantime, stay safe and kind to one another. INFINITE SPARKLES! **

**-Goldnox**


	13. Dancing With Desire

**A/N: Hey, my darlings! How have you all been? I am ecstatic because the BETA IS BAAAAAACK! Thank goodness, too, because things were getting a little rough without her. All hail Trogdor19, the supporter of hiding from the chapters that refuse to be conquered and instead, lets me spend my time rambling about joining a circus. Because it happens. Anyways, I can't believe we're already 13 chapters into this story! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 13: Dancing with Desire**

I dial Elena's number as I turn into the parking lot of the store, pulling up my parking brake and killing the engine just as she answers.

"_Oh my God,"_ she drawls. _"You are going to love me _so_ much."_

"Little late for that," I reply, and she giggles. "So tell me, what are the chances of me convincing you to ditch whatever sinful outfit you're wearing and to exchange it for a nun costume instead?"

She's told me more than once that her prom dress closely resembles a WMD, and since Elena's not one to normally brag about the sensuality of her clothing, I fully believe her. Although the only thing she's told me is that supposedly it's a quarter invisible, and I still have no earthly clue what that means.

What I _do_ know is that we went back and forth for weeks before finally agreeing that I wasn't going to be her date tonight becausefirst of all, I have to work and yeah, I could have taken the night off but second, her parents are besties with pretty much the entire school faculty and word would spread quicker than quick if I was to show my face in the ballroom of the hotel where they're hosting the glittery shindig.

Elena huffed and puffed that it wasn't fair and I agreed, while secretly thanking my lucky stars because going to prom again? Sorry, sweetheart, but I'd rather pass. But after listening to Elena sigh and mumble about how disappointed she was that I wouldn't be there to dance with her, I countered that if it really meant that much to her then there was a very simple solution, and that involved me knocking on her front door _without_ a warming bag in tow.

She got pissed and declared I was being cruel and insensitive by suggesting solutions that I knew were impossible because her dad would flip his shit, and after she calmed down enough to apologize for being crazy, she went right back to playfully blaming me because in her words, "It's not her fault for being upset when she doesn't get what she wants because I'm always too nice to her." I promised to try to be more of a dick in the future, and back to normal we went.

And I really wasn't jumping up and down in glee to go to her prom in the first place, but I _do_ want her to get everything she wants, so I sucked it up and a few days later I put in the suggestion box that if she wanted to take a date so she had someone to dance with, that it was fine with me. As long as he didn't kiss her…or touch her too much…and then five seconds later I was proposing to get plastic surgery that was entirely reversible so I could be there with her and then go back to looking like myself the very next day and she couldn't stop laughing.

She said I was insane for thinking she'd ever go with another guy, and that she was happy to be the odd number in a group of her friends. I like that idea a little better, and I trust her, but it also doesn't mean I'm entirely thrilled about her being dressed to the nines while in a room with hundreds of other pricks all looking to score with her because they think she's single.

This shit is just beyond complicated and it sucks. Neither of us is really happy with the prom situation, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it. Not to mention that I have no idea how I'm going to stomach the next long line of hours while I'm on the road and will be constantly wondering about what random "friend" she's dancing with, where his hands will be, what's going to happen if he tries to kiss her and just…yeah.

Fuck my life.

"_Don't pout,"_ she says and I roll my eyes.

"Not pouting. Grumbling. Much more manly."

"_Right."_ She laughs. _"So, since you're not pouting…in your car…just sitting there like a bump on a log in the parking lot…"_

"What?" I burst out, and I can almost hear her smile.

"_Look in your rearview mirror,"_ she says softly and when I check, I see her taillights shutting off because she must have pulled in and parked while we were on the phone and _I didn't even notice_.

I hang up and toss my phone down in my passenger seat, but I've barely got my door closed behind me when hers opens and then I'm stuck in place while watching a black stiletto greet the ground. Because after that it's a long creamy leg and when she stands and faces me, I'm one hundred percent speechless.

She's every version of every fantasy I've ever had, her hair up and teardrop diamond earrings sparkling under the lights that are just bright enough to tell me that her lips are stained in a shade of crimson that perfectly matches her dress _and_ my car. I swallow as my eyes follow the scalloped neckline that is poised over her collarbone, the red lace that's covering every inch of her also revealing her _completely_ as it hugs her arms from her shoulders down to her delicate wrists; the exact curve of her chest and hips highlighted by the thin gold belt at her waist and the devilish fit of the fabric, and then more red lace is flowing all the way down to the ground and I don't think I've taken a breath since I first saw her.

She takes a step towards me and my heart thuds and cock jumps when the slit in her skirt parts up to her left knee, just enough to taunt me with a glimpse of her leg before she takes another step closer and _Jesus Christ._

"Hey, good looking," she teases with a smile when she stops in front of me, and I'm openly gaping at her and I don't even care about trying to hide it. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. She beams and touches under my chin with her index finger, then lightly pushes up to nudge my jaw closed and I blink. She giggles before stretching up to kiss me, then pulls back and scrunches her nose, wiping her thumb across my bottom lip. "Sorry, lipstick."

"Please be real…" I manage to mumble, but my voice sounds like it's halfway between a gasp and begging and she lightly laughs.

"So, this is okay?" she says coyly and I shake my head.

"Cruel. This is cruel. I…"

God, I don't even want to _touch her_ she looks so incredible.

"You haven't even seen the best part," she says and winks, then turns around and peeks at me over her shoulder with a grin.

I suck in a breath because there is no back. _None._ Just the faint hint of red lace down her sides before it swoops back in just in time to cover the dimples above her ass, and every inch of her shoulder blades and spine are all directly in front of me, leagues of smooth skin that I've never seen before and I want to see the rest of it and _fucking hell_, that's what she meant by a quarter invisible.

I swallow again.

"Damon," she says soothingly, then turns back around and cups my jaw in her hands. "Breathe, honey."

"Can't. You're…"

"I know, I know," she says with a smile. "_Red_."

"Red," I repeat with a nod, and she bites her lip as her cheeks flush.

I blow out a breath and my fingers flex by my sides, and more than anything I want to pull her against me, but for some reason I really am afraid to touch her and I just can't think straight.

"Dance with me," she whispers, and she doesn't even give me a chance to respond because she has to know, she always does, and her palm slides from my jaw to my shoulder and then down my arm. She takes my hand and guides it to settle on her lower back, and I flinch when I feel her skin. She smiles comfortingly as she lets my hand go and places hers back on my shoulder, her other fingers winding through mine down by my side.

In something close to a habit I bring them up and tuck them against my chest, over my heart, and her eyes soften when slowly, I begin to sway us from side to side. I touch my forehead to hers and soak her in, her nails combing through the hair at the nape of my neck and I don't know if there is anything better than this. I know there's nothing better than her.

"I missed you today," she tells me quietly, and I smile.

She spent all day with her mom, doing her nails and her hair and makeup and probably a plethora of other girly magic tricks to transform her from looking like her typical goddess self into _this_, and I knew that she would be busy and in the company of her parents so we haven't gotten to talk at all today, apart from a few quick words when she first woke up this morning. And it only made my bad mood worse because I really, really didn't think I'd get a chance to hear her voice again until probably Monday thanks to her dad still borderline barring any contact with the outside world on his precious family Sundays.

I _never_ thought I'd get to see her tonight.

"You know you had fun though," I tell her, and she nods.

She's super close with her mom, they're practically best friends and they shop and do stuff together all the time, at least, whenever they can because Elena is always so busy. And I know it's been hard on her because she hates keeping secrets from her mom; she's always telling me that she misses being able to giggle and gush and swoon over boys while devouring a bowl of ice cream and that in other circumstances, her mom would love me to bits and it's so hard to hear, because it makes me feel terrible that I've taken that away from her. But it's just the difficult truth of our reality.

"I did," she agrees. "Although I think Mom was having even more fun than I was because she wouldn't stop telling _everyone_ all about my dress and that graduation was going to be nothing but girls because all the guys in the senior class would be dead from heart failure after tonight."

I snort. "She's right."

"_Aww..."_ She rewards me with another soft kiss before I carefully spin her out, enjoying every angle of her and then I twirl her back in.

"Someone call an ambulance," I breathe and she blushes.

"Yeah, maybe you could share one with my dad."

"Not a fan?" I ask, and she shakes her head.

"He barely let me out of the house," she says with a laugh. "My brother had to run interference for me, it was crazy."

"Naughty girl." I grin and pull her hips a little closer into mine, and she sucks in a breath when she feels exactly how much I love her in my favorite color. "What happened to that merit badge for being the perfect daughter?"

Her lace-sleeved arm winds tighter around my neck as she stretches up, her lips brushing against mine. "I traded it for the panties I'm wearing," she whispers and my eyes roll back under a throaty growl.

I can't resist kissing her, my cock hardening further under every smooth stroke of her tongue against mine, and I claim no knowledge of how my fingertips slipped just inside the edge of fabric covering her ribs. Goosebumps rise between her bare skin and my palm, the pad of my middle finger maybe an inch away from the base of her breast and it's only made better and worse when she presses harder against me because she's not wearing a bra and I can feel the glorious tightness of her nipples through the lace of her dress and I'm so totally fucked.

"Skip prom," I plead, both of us breathing more heavily than normal as Elena rests her forehead against mine. "I'll quit my job and I will take you to bed right now and _I swear to God_, Elena, I'll make it worth it."

"Not fair," she pouts, then lazily nips at my bottom lip. "You can't tempt me like that."

I swallow, but my voice is still thick and slurred. "You started it."

She smiles, then kisses me slow but still deep and way too passionately for a parking lot before she pulls back. "Soon," she tells me and I groan, my hands settling on her hips and squeezing her in frustration. "And I have to be at Bonnie's like ten minutes ago, but I…" she trails off, then shakes her head as if she's in a daze and grits out, "_God,_ Damon, I_ love_ you," and then she's kissing me hungrily, my arms locked around her waist and I'm not going to let her go. Nope, not gonna and can't make me.

"Damon, what are you doing out—oh hey, Elena. You look…" Ric says from behind us and we don't even stop to acknowledge him. Because I don't give a fuck and I'm pretty sure she doesn't know anyone else exists with the way she's moaning into my throat and it's just Ric anyway and she tastes too damn good to abandon for anything in this universe. "I'll see you later," he mumbles, and then the door shuts again like he went back inside.

And I'm not sure if that's the sound that brings her back into awareness, or if it's just the relentless mental alarm clock she keeps hitting the snooze on, but I know when she's thinking about leaving because she always pauses and then kisses me once and then twice more like she just needs one last taste to keep her going until the next time we're together, and I groan.

"I'm late," she breathes and I tighten my hold on her.

"You shouldn't say that to men," I reply grumpily and she smiles, wrapping her arms around my neck as I hug her protectively, my lips dropping to her shoulder. "I love you," I whisper into her skin, "and call me if you need anything but have fun and just—"

"I will," she promises. "And I'll miss you the whole time and I love you too, _so _much."

I nod, then lean back and cup her cheek in my hand, smiling at my girl. "You look beautiful. And I take zero responsibility if you now smell like pizza."

She beams, then shrugs. "I happen to like that smell."

I laugh, and then steal one last kiss from her. "Bye, baby."

"Bye," she whispers with a wink, and very reluctantly, I let her disappear from my hands as she turns and walks away.

I watch every sway of her hips until she gets in her car, then slowly backs out and after blowing me a kiss, she pulls out of the parking lot. I open my car door and slide back into my seat, my head falling back against the headrest as I blow out a breath because I'm way too hard to go back into the store right now. And I especially can't go in there when my eyes catch my reflection in the rearview mirror and I see that I'm wearing my fair share of her red lipstick.

I smile and grab a napkin from my cup holder, praying that whatever she means by "soon" means really, really fucking soon.

* * *

I check my phone again as I turn on my bedroom light when I get home at a quarter to one, but there's nothing waiting for me. I haven't heard a word from Elena since she drove out of the parking lot, not that I really expected to. But at the same time, girl has withdrawals if she doesn't text on a nearly hourly basis.

So all during my shower I tell myself that she's fine, that she's probably still at the dance having a blast with her friends. Could be that she's already asleep at Bonnie's. And that's the moment, right in the middle of drying off, when I realize that she didn't tell me anything about her plans for _after_ prom.

My head whips up and my brow is furrowed in my bathroom mirror, because _how did I miss that?_

My mind speeds as it goes over every conversation that we've had about the subject.

She told me how ridiculous the theme was that the seniors voted on and how someone put her name in for prom queen, but she doesn't want to win because she'd rather it go to some other girl that lost her sister in a car wreck a few weeks ago. And then it was a testy conversation about how all of her pictures for the video montage were while she was wearing her dance clothes, and I could tell she was frustrated about it, despite her acting like she was brushing it off. I didn't see the problem with that, and she finally confessed that she felt it made her look like she had no identity other than being a dancer and that was Grade A Bullarky because she was also a kickass movie geek and comic book aficionado. Can't really argue with that.

We talked about what time she was supposed to go over to Bonnie's so I knew when I could call her before she met up with everyone there, and she sighed over how it was going to take forever to pose for probably a thousand pictures that no one was ever going to look at except their parents. But of course Elena then perked right up and said that she couldn't wait to retaliate by photo bombing all the ones she wasn't going to be in before their group all went to eat at some Mediterranean restaurant. I remember laughing my ass off when she made me promise not to tell that she was planning on hiding a burrito in her purse because she says Mediterranean food is just like Chinese food in the sense that she's always starving again thirty minutes after she eats it…but _nothing_ was said about the after party, or if she's going to one.

And it's not like I have to know where she is or who she's with, she's a big girl and her own person, but from what I remember the main point of prom was to get drunk afterward while the booze flows as steadily as the clothes come off and I'm suddenly racing to my bedroom, grabbing my phone again and seeing it blank of any missed calls or texts.

I curse and throw down the towel that I'm just holding in my hand because I didn't bother putting it on before I ran from the bathroom, although it's not like it matters because Stefan and Caroline aren't here. Brother is busy pulling a save-my-relationship weekend vacay at some B&B and they left this morning. Must be nice, assholes.

Okay, that's not really fair but_ fuck,_ I am never going to be able to sleep tonight and why didn't I—

My phone vibrates in my hand and I startle, unable to open the message fast enough.

_**You at home yet?**_

I chew the inside of my lip, and all I want to do is call her so I can hear her voice and be sure that's just her standard check in because ever since that girl's sister died, Elena's been even more worried than normal about me driving all the time. But I can't help wondering if she texted because something's wrong like maybe she's stuck at a party that's spiraling out of control and she doesn't want me to know that she's upset. She hates crying, especially in front of me.

I blow out a breath, and try to sound composed.

_**Just got out of the shower. How'd it go?**_

_**TEASE! And I would have much rather been in your shower ;)**_

I breathe a smile, collapsing on my bed in relief.

Christ, I feel like a tool for freaking out over nothing.

_**Plenty of hot water left…**_

_**Glad to hear it**_

Okay, and that's supposed to mean…?

_**Do you think I could swing by for a few minutes?**_

My eyes widen as my heart speeds up, my cock beginning to harden and um…_yeah_.

_**As long as it's just for a FEW minutes. Got a hot date. **_

_**Is that really the response you want to go with?**_

I snort and text her my address, totally fucking dumbfounded at the change of events, and then I quickly shift into panic mode about the state of my apartment. But then I remember that it's thankfully decent because Caroline always cleans like mad before they go anywhere, that way it's tidy when they get back.

_**Be there in ten. See you soon 3**_

I hurriedly dry the rest of the way off, tugging on my jeans and opting for a black button down instead of a t-shirt. And I make my bed but as soon as I'm done, I wince, because I can't tell if that makes me chivalrous or an asshole because she said "swing by for a few minutes." For all I know she's gonna show up while choking back tears because her and Bonnie could've gotten in another fight, and I'm making my bed like some sleazy…I just…I have no idea what the right move is here. But still, I brush my teeth and add a splash of the cologne that she always inhales like a lifesaving agent whenever I wear it to work.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my neck a little flushed and I narrow my eyes at it, telling myself to calm the fuck down because it's _Elena_. She knows everything about me, I know everything about her, it's been a solid three months since the first time I told her I loved her and whatever reason she has for coming over, it's fine. It's more than fine. I promised myself that I'd always be what she needed, and that definitely holds to tonight.

I head outside and lean forward on the railing, my forearms bearing my weight with my hands clasped in front of me as I look down into the parking lot, and a grin stretches across my face when I see a blue X6 pull into a parking space. Her taillights shut off and the driver's door opens, baiting me with a flash of lace and then a sleek long leg, and I am having way too much fun watching Elena slide out of her car because she's still wearing that insanely tempting, glorious red dress.

She turns and the exposed line of her spine curves when she reaches inside towards the passenger seat, one of her feet hitching back behind her and sending my pulse spiking as high as the heel on her stiletto. Because when she straightens, she shuts her door and then slings her red and gold dance duffel bag over her shoulder.

I know that bag, and I know damn well she doesn't need that for a five minute swing by.

I shake the questions of exactly how long she's been planning this "impromptu" visit from my head as she glances around, those teardrop diamond earrings sparkling under the yellow lights lining the parking lot. And when I whistle a catcall just to see what she'll do, she smiles, blushing a little as she crosses her lace-sleeved arms.

"Wherever you are, scallywag, I can't see you," she says just loud enough for her voice to carry, and I chuckle.

"Then look up."

Her chin lifts towards my voice, her whole face lighting up as her shoulders straighten in something that looks like determination when she sees me.

"Hi," I say a little quieter, and she bites her lip.

Fuck. She's nervous…

She tries to be subtle when she blows out a breath and starts making her way towards the stairs, climbing them carefully in her high heels, and I swallow when she finds the landing and is suddenly right in front of me. I shift to face her so my front door is to my left, my right elbow on the railing with my ankles crossed coolly, but I'm anything but casual if you were judging by my heart rate 'cause, _God,_ that _dress._

She hesitantly makes her way the last few feet towards me, and as soon as I get my first breath of mocha and almonds it's like an adrenaline surge straight through my bloodstream.

I can't believe she's here.

But the knowledge of why this is the first time she's been in front of my apartment door, why she didn't realize I lived on the second floor, sends my gaze dropping down to the bag resting by her hip. And she must know what I'm thinking because when I look back at her eyes, she bites her lip again. Except this time, it looks more than a little guilty.

"Where are you supposed to be tonight?" I ask gently, and she shifts her weight.

"Staying with Bonnie and a bunch of friends in the hotel." Elena takes a deep breath, but her voice is still tense when she says, "She knows where I am, no one else will notice."

I nod, trying to stay relaxed. It's exactly what I thought as soon as I saw that bag. And I'm thrilled that she's here, but a part of me hates that it always has to be hidden, a secret. Because I have no way of knowing when she might be able to come back.

"And when are you supposed to be home?"

She ducks her head, but then her eyes peek back up at mine. "Tomorrow afternoon."

I clear my throat and she tilts her head at me.

"Is that okay?" she asks timidly, and I look a little closer into her eyes, trying to block out all the reasons and excuses why it shouldn't be because we know the risks, and the rules, and we agreed to ignore them.

She adjusts her bag on her shoulder and when fear touches her eyes, I can't do the right thing. I can't send her back to where she's supposed to be because she needs me to say yes, just as much as I need to say it, and I won't let her down.

I hook an arm around her waist, pulling her into me and watching as relief flows through her from her perfectly shaped eyebrows down to the subtle shift in the shape of her mouth. I slip the strap of her bag off her shoulder, then put it onto mine before I very slowly, I lean forward and brush a kiss onto her lips.

"No." I smile, squeezing her a little tighter so she knows that it's only because if it were up to me, I'd keep her for a hell of a lot longer than a few hours that are already promising to go by way too quickly, and she breathes a laugh. "Come on in," I tell her and take her hand, opening the door and letting her inside.

And never in my life has a single, simple act felt so significant.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I'm so cruel! Please, rant and rave and break my email account from all of your lovely reviews because I cannot wait to read them, and don't forget those other little buttons, they feel left out sometimes ;) And after you're done cursing my name for cutting the chapter here, go check _In Time We Trust by Trogdor19_ because DAYAM, that girl knows how to write some wicked awesome shiznit. Until next time, stay safe and kind to one another, and happy reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	14. Game Changer

**A/N: Good morning! You all have been so patient and so kind, and leaving me so many lovely reviews and now the time has come to reap the fruits of your labor! (Or, my labor, or...whatever, you get the idea :) Rated M. M as in MOTHER OF GOD, THAT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY PPL UNDER THE AGE 18.**

**And I have to say, I love my beta, just in case you guys didn't know that. But I do. Trogdor19 has this uncanny way of telling me how to fix stuff while inspiring me and reassuring me and there are just not enough ppl like her in the world. I wish everyone could find their Trogdor. But you can't have mine because I CALLED HER FIRST! **

**Anyway, back to the show: just as a catch up, Elena is now 18, and she has just shown up to Damon's apartment for the first time ever in a surprise visit after her prom. Anyone want to guess what's gonna happen next? THEY'RE GONNA PLAY JENGA! ALL NIGHT LONG! (Would I be that mean? Yes, yes I would.) Guess you'll just have to read to see...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Game Changer**

Elena walks in a few steps past the threshold, looking around at the furniture and art that is all one hundred percent Caroline's choosing, but she glances back at me over her shoulder when I shut the door behind us, her cheeks dusting pink when I turn the deadbolt. I wink at her and stride confidently towards my room, but my hand sneaks out to tickle her side when I pass her and I steal a delighted giggle for my effort.

So much better.

"Where's your brother?" Elena asks from behind me as I open my bedroom door and flip on the light, staying by the doorframe as I gently drop her bag on the floor just inside.

"Out of town with his girlfriend."

Elena's shoulder brushes mine when she doesn't hesitate to go inside my room, and I lean against the doorjamb, just watching her as she turns and takes it all in.

"Empty, but clean," she says with a nod of approval as she faces me.

"Not empty," I counter. "Bed, nightstand, particle board resembling a desk. What else do I need?"

She shrugs.

"Exactly."

She smiles, and I'm suddenly having a very hard time moving. I know what she wants, and I want it too, but something about the fact that it's her prom night is making me a little queasy. And it's not like this would be her first time or anything, but just…the cliché of it all is making me feel like I'm taking what isn't supposed to be mine.

"You been drinking tonight?" I ask in a teasing voice, but I'm not sure it covers what I'm really asking. She slowly shakes her head no, and I feel a little better because I believe her, but I'm still stuck at the door. I clear my throat. "You want some water or anything?"

She laughs quietly to herself, then beckons me with a single painted fingernail, and I never had any chance of saying no. Not that I would want to.

I push off the door and walk towards her, and when I'm close enough, her arms slide around my neck as my hands instinctively find her hips. One of her palms settles on my jaw as she stretches up to kiss me, and when her lips pull away they don't go far, my forehead leaning against hers. I exhale comfortably because _this_, I know how to do. _Here_, I'm home.

"How was work?" she breathes, her voice sweet and private and familiar in the face of a bunch of new boundaries we're about to break, and I faintly shrug.

"Work. How was prom?"

She laughs lightly. "Prom sucked."

I smile. "It has a tendency to do that."

"Yeah, well no one told me. Talk about a waste of time and effort."

I slowly shake my head, my hand splayed across the bare skin of her lower back and smoothing its way up. I still don't know how I'm finding the ability to speak when she's showing this much skin.

"I think you're biased," she whispers, and even more slowly, I nod.

I tickle my fingertips up her spine and she shivers, goosebumps racing up her back as her nails begin playing with the hair at the base of my neck.

"It's freezing in here," she says quietly, and I scoff. It could be ninety degrees, and she'd still be cold.

"Wimp," I breathe, then dip my head and press my mouth to hers. She hums a moan that undoes any sort of restraint I had, and when I part her lips and slip my tongue inside, she squeezes her arms around my neck and is zero to eighty in less time than it takes me to remember that I don't have a condom.

Holy shit, _I don't have a condom_.

She begins unbuttoning my shirt, and as I kiss her heatedly, my hands are apparently on the same track as Elena's mind with how they're gripping her waist, roaming her back and pulling her hips tighter into mine. But _my_ mind is speeding through options until it lands at a frustrated halt on the one I'm going to have to be okay with. Because there's no way I'm stopping this and driving to a store right now, and I could check Stefan's room but _gross_ and that sits me firmly at Plan: Suck It Up. Because my previously celibate dumbass just blew my only night of getting to be with her, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of my girl and enjoy the hell out of her.

Her hands finish opening the last button on my shirt and when they reach for my jeans, I spin her, my hand covering the space between her hips and pulling her into me. She gasps and leans her head back to rest on my shoulder, a needy pant of my name coming from between her lips when I begin to kiss her neck. My lips and tongue spare no expense of praising every inch of bare skin I can find, my other palm smoothing its way up her slender arm and over her shoulder.

And when my fingertips dip under the scalloped hem of the red lace that is covering her delicate collarbone, she shivers.

"Yes or no, Elena?"

I whispered my question directly into the contradiction of soft and sharp where her jaw transforms into the smoothness of her neck, and it almost feels like she absorbed my words with how her whole body is trembling like crazy ever since they slipped from my lips.

"I'd rather you say 'no' and mean it, then say 'yes' and not…"

"Yes," she says immediately, her voice clear with a conviction that I was desperate to hear. "Yes, Damon, please…"

My left hand leaves her hip to find her other shoulder, and slowly, I slide my palms down her arms, gently pushing the lace with them and revealing her an inch at a time. Her breathing picks up as her back arches, her shoulders insistent against mine as I stand behind her and I'm ruined. Because as I watch, the scalloped neckline suddenly slips down off her breasts, creamy skin and dusty pink nipples now visible for the first time to my eyes.

She sucks in a breath when the cool air hits her bare skin, and when I check her expression, her eyes are closed as she bites her lip. I have a sudden memory of her voice encircling me as she sat in my car, brokenly telling me what happened the last time she was undressed in front of another man and I sweetly kiss the hollow below her ear. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if she slammed the brakes right now because of how horribly he betrayed her, but she doesn't say anything about stopping and instead, quickly pulls her sleeves the rest of the way off, the top of her dress bunching around her waist.

Her hands come up to thread through my hair, her voice a breathy whisper over the words, "Belt…then zipper…"

I swallow, doing as she commands and unhooking the quarter inch gold belt that's defining her waist before letting it fall to the floor. I then find a metal tab just over the dimples in her lower back where the rest of her dress continues and as unhurried as possible, I unhook each tooth and lock, my knuckles brushing over her skin as I reveal a previously hidden strip of black lace that is everywhere I want to be. I lower myself down, being careful to keep the gown from falling away in a rushed heap as I smooth my hands down the side of her legs the same way I did her arms until I'm kneeling behind her, and she steps out of her dress.

I toss it aside and kiss the back of her toned calf, her muscles flexing and highlighted by the black stilettos she's still wearing. I massage my hands over her, my tongue darting out to taste the back of her knee, my teeth nipping her thigh, my cheek rubbing over the curve of her ass and my lips brushing against the base of her spine as I rise. And even when I'm standing I don't stop, sliding my hands up from her waist and over her ribs, guiding her arms up and drifting my touch over her forearms and encircling her wrists above us until I've felt all of her because she's too beautiful to be real.

I bring her hands down and drape them around my neck so she can feel that I'm here with her, and that's when I realize that she's shaking, her breaths lightning quick.

"You okay?" I whisper, and she nods.

"Freezing," she says, and half of my brain is screaming that it's a crime to do what I'm about to, but more than getting to know and see her body I care about _her_, making sure she's comfortable and feels safe and I just…

I bring her arms down by her sides then I shrug out of my shirt, sliding it between us and threading her hands through the sleeves before I bring the black fabric up to settle over her shoulders.

"Damon…"

"It's okay," I promise as I gingerly hook two buttons closed between her breasts, then hug my arms around her.

"Damon, I swear, I really was just cold, I'm not—"

"I know," I tell her, then smile, my fingertips sneaking inside the open lower half of the shirt and brushing over the skin of her stomach. She blows out a long, slow breath, her back melting into my chest as I dare to move my hand lower. "These are nice," I tell her softly, tracing the edge of her black panties.

She clears her throat. "They would've been red to match the dress, but I couldn't find the right—" Her voice cuts off when I dip my hand between her thighs, a single fingertip drawing a line from her entrance until I press her clit through the fabric that's already damp with her arousal. I pull my finger away a second later and she finishes her sentence with a breathless, "Color…"

So, she's been planning this for a while.

"I like the black," I tell her and she nods, dazed, while I slide my hand under the lace band.

Her hips tilt toward my palm and I don't hesitate to go after what I know we both want, slipping a finger inside of her. She sucks in a breath and I moan throatily at how slick and tight she is, how deliciously warm, my other hand gripping her hip firmly as I nuzzle the shell of her ear and breathe in the rich aroma of her. I pull out and then enter her again, giving her a second finger because I just can't help it, her knees bending under the increase in sensation.

And she feels so good, so fucking good that I can't resist continually stroking deeper into her as she rolls and whimpers, my left hand exploring the shape of her body over my shirt, and then under the fabric that is masking it, searching greedily until I can feel the graceful shape and weight of her breasts, the tautness of her nipples.

My right thumb bumps her clit and she spasms, but I know where I want her first orgasm to start and that's not it. So I lock my arm across her chest as I curl my fingers, petting against her front wall and without warning she loses it completely: her walls fluttering and tightening as she reaches back to scrabble for a grip on my shoulders, one hell of a scream tumbling past her lips and it brings a grin straight to mine.

I coax her to ride it out and she does so beautifully, until too soon it starts to wane and her body lulls against mine. I pull out of her and hold her to me as she catches her breath, reveling in the feeling of her heartbeat thundering away when I rest my cheek to her neck.

"What…how…" she pants and I chuckle.

"G-spot, they're all the rage," I tease, but my confusion meter spikes when she shakes her head.

"Don't have one…"

I snort. "Says who?"

She doesn't answer and fury flashes through me, then pride and possessiveness. I grab her hip and spin her around so she's facing me, her eyes wide and hazy.

I touch under her chin and lift it another inch. "I beg to differ," I say strongly, and she smiles, throwing her arms around my neck and crashing her mouth to mine while I boost her up, her legs wrapping around my waist in a movement so clean you'd think we'd done this before. Her kiss is pure passion as I sweep her stilettos off, walking over to my bed and stepping onto the mattress that's on the floor, pushed into the corner. I press her back into the wall and gently unwind her legs until she's standing on the bed, Elena giggling softly when she feels the give of the springs under her feet instead of her back.

"Aren't we gonna…you know…"

I don't answer her as I lower myself down to my knees, then hook my fingers under the band of her panties and draw them down her legs. I slip them off one foot, but instead of waiting for me to help her with the other, Elena tries to kick them off. Except they get caught on her toe ring and it takes a good three kicks while I watch and chuckle before they fly away, landing on the other side of the room.

I arch an amused eyebrow up at her, and she sighs and drops her head back against the wall. "That was so not sexy," she mumbles and I push the unbuttoned portion of the shirt aside, hugging my arms around her waist.

"Everything about you is sexy," I whisper, trailing my lips across her stomach as her hands weave through my hair, her body shaking as she lightly laughs.

"You can cut the sweet talk, it's not like you don't know you're gonna get laid."

I nip at her and she squeaks.

"Sorry! I take it back…you're _not_ gonna get laid. Better?"

I scrape her with my teeth because she has no idea how right she is, and she's not going to find out until she's so relaxed that she won't even care. I don't, not anymore.

I kiss my way down the front of her thigh, then start moving to the inside and she curses under her breath.

"Seriously, Damon. You don't have to—"

I cut her off when I prop her thigh on my shoulder, and afterwards she doesn't utter a word of protest. I circle her with my lips, moaning at the taste I've waited forever to know and that was totally worth every single drawn out, sexually frustrating day, and her hands tighten in my hair, holding me to her as her hips sink towards my mouth.

"Okay," she breathes, "you can do that…"

I smile, then gradually begin to discover her design, finding the places that make her gasp and shiver, the ones that command surprised hisses and then throaty moans, cataloguing everything about the angle she likes and the pace she prefers and the rhythm that pulls my name off her lips in an endless plea. And when she climaxes it is a gorgeous addiction, one that I have to taste again. So I trade her my fingers, stroking into her as I kiss and adore every other part of her body and after she dissolves into another orgasm from inside alone, I switch once more, earning another round of her screams with purely my tongue.

She's wonderfully insatiable and I swear to God, the only thing I want to know—even more than what she feels like stretched around my cock—is how many times I can get her to come for me. Four is not enough.

"Can't…stand…annmore…" she slurs as she sluggishly leans against the wall, her legs shaking as she gasps for breath, and I chuckle and growl into her hip. She's barely been able to get a full word out since before her last climax.

I sit back on my heels, looking over her flushed skin from where it's peeking out from behind the undone buttons of my shirt, the collar slipping down on one side and flirting with the idea of exposing her shoulder. And her hair was beautifully twisted and pinned when she arrived, but now it's a mess of loose strands falling here and there from her hands running through it, and I love it ten thousand times more this way.

I pull her hands away from where one is attempting to dig into the drywall for support, the other clutched over her heart, then place them against my neck. I settle mine on her hips and urge her forward, taking her weight for her as I gently lower her down so she's straddled across my lap, her head tucking exhaustedly into my neck.

"Where have you been all my life?" she mumbles as I shift us and lay her down, her head finding my pillow easily.

I smile, stretching out beside her and propping my head on my hand. "Waiting for you to have a damn birthday."

She tries to laugh but doesn't get far, then she closes her eyes and blows out a breath. She turns her head towards me and winces, and when she goes to reach for her hair, she gives up halfway there and her hand flops back down to the mattress.

I snort and tenderly work my fingers into her hair, trying to be as careful as possible when I pull out a dozen little pins and set them safely on my nightstand. When I've finally got them all I massage my fingers into her scalp, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she hums contentedly.

"Feel better?" I ask quietly and she nods, one of her hands starting to follow the line of my arm from my wrist up to my shoulder.

She tugs lightly and I lean down, brushing kisses against her jaw, her cheek, the tip of her nose and the tops of her eyelids until her hands find the strength to cup my face, holding me in place so she can press her mouth firmly against mine. She slips her tongue across the seam of my lips and moans, then searches deeper, her nails tickling their way down my chest as she hooks a leg over my waist, pulling me in closer. And I'm so lost in the feel of her that I forget, then remember with a start when she pops open the button on my jeans.

I reach down and lace my fingers with hers, and when I lean slightly back to check her eyes, they're confused, worried, _embarrassed_, and I feel like such an ass.

"We can't…" I admit, and her brow furrows as I sigh. "Unlike you, I didn't exactly plan on this and…yeah. I don't have a condom."

Her face smoothes out in a look I don't understand, then a wide smile paints her face. "Seriously?" she says, and I exhale.

"Yeah. But I promise I meant it when I said I'd make tonight worth it and—"

"No, not that," she says and shakes her head. "You're seriously not even going to_ try_ to talk me into it? You know…make a promise to be careful or be all 'Baby, it's fine, we can always get the morning after pill,' etcetera…"

My eyes pop. "_No," _I say seriously, borderline offended_._ "You think I would ever say that to you?"

And I'm not sure what she reads in my expression, but whatever it is softens her eyes, her smile, her touch as she lightly combs her nails through the hair by my temples, grazing the pads of her fingertips across my cheekbone and sweeping her thumb over my lips like she's seeing me differently than before.

"Damon…" she says softly, then bites her lip. "I'm on birth control."

I blink. "What?"

She shrugs. "I mean, it's not like I've ever…you know…_without_ a condom, but it's still good to be safe and it…_helps…_with other stuff…"

I bite the inside of my lip, my voice low and steady. "Elena, are you sure?" I ask, and when she nods enthusiastically with a bright smile, the same one that I can feel spreading across my own face, I don't know why but it suddenly slows everything down. Which is nuts considering how we've spent the last hour but I just…I don't know if I ever really believed that we would get here. That I would get to have her.

She stretches up to kiss me, her mouth gentle against mine before she increases the pressure of her hand on my chest, and I roll carefully onto my back. Her body settles over mine, her lips leisurely trailing to my neck before she sits up, looking me over. It takes me a second to realize that she's never seen me like this: I'm always in my work uniform when we're together, and I'm definitely wearing a shirt.

I swallow, and she smiles reassuringly as she runs her hands down my chest, but then she blushes a little when she follows the lines of me down to my stomach and begins tracing the definition of my abs. But what surprises me most is when her palms wander up and over to my shoulder, feeling the scar from my surgery after the hood prop on the SS broke and it fell on me when I was fourteen.

She leans down and kisses it sweetly, my eyes closing when I remember how disgusted I was after I saw the scar for the first time, my body marred forever because of a freak accident. But Elena doesn't seem to care about my imperfections and instead, she seeks them out: her gaze and touch searching the lengths of my arms and pausing over every discoloration from grease burns and firecrackers and a lifetime of dumb decisions. She kisses all ten of my knuckles before pressing my palms to her cheeks, humming like my skin is the best thing she's ever felt and heat bleeds from my chest through every other part of me.

"You're always so warm," she tells me, and I can't help but to smile. "Damon?"

I faintly jerk my chin at her, and she bites her lip.

"May I undress you?"

My eyebrow quirks. I don't know if anyone has ever asked me that. It usually just kind of…happens. And when I tuck her hair behind one ear, then nod, she smiles like I just answered every one of her prayers which is insane when _I'm_ the one that's being blessed here and _Christ_, I don't deserve this girl.

She shifts so she's sitting beside my hip, her feet tucked under her when she timidly reaches for the zipper on my jeans. Her eyes stay locked with mine when she carefully slides it down, then works my pants down my legs and when I'm naked before her, she _folds_ the denim before placing them on the floor and I just…I don't get why she's so good to me, I don't get it all.

I pillow my head with a hand because she doesn't seem to be in any kind of a hurry, giving my legs and hips the same inspection as she did my arms.

"You're crazy beautiful, you know that?" she says with a sigh, and I laugh, grabbing her hand and tugging her down so she's lying beside me.

She turns on her side to face me, tucking her hands between her cheek and my pillow. And when I sweep the back of my knuckles over her cheek, she blushes, and it's so sweet that I can't resist leaning over to kiss her, tasting those delicious red lips. And even though it's far from the first time, it all feels new when she works one arm under mine, her hand sliding up my back and gripping my shoulder as her leg shifts, the silky skin of her inner thigh drawing high over my bare hip.

I slip my other arm under her neck and pull her more securely against me as I lightly grip the back of her knee, then dare to rock my hips forward so I can brush against her and this is it: this is the moment when everything is going to change.

She gasps into my mouth and I echo the sentiment; she's so lusciously wet, and everything warm and perfect that I know is inside of her is waiting for _me_, and I _want_ it. I move her in a bit closer, then with my arms holding her to me, my mouth gentle against hers, I gradually begin to change the law of existence when I press into her.

Her lip quivers against my moan at the first taste of her body wrapping around mine, heat and silk and skin all fading into one divine, indelible oblivion as we move from the someday to the happened. And with unhurried movements we begin, hands light as we feel one another, my smooth strokes just as devoted as the kisses she returns them with and there is no language for this. Because it's not just sex, even as it _is:_ her back arching under the increasing pace of my thrusts while her head falls back, her leg over my side urging me deeper. And it's more important than making love, not that I truly know since I've never been in love before Elena, but even with nothing to compare it to, this is just _better_.

Because even with as incredible as she feels to me, it's not about how she sets every nerve and sensation I have on fire, tingles racing up my spine and over my skin where she touches me, kisses me. It's about the way she leans into my hands, moving with me like she knows exactly what I'm thinking, how I want her to tilt and arch so I can make her feel as good as I possibly can. The only thing I want is her pleasure, for her to experience everything she's stirring in me. So when I roll her fully onto her back so I can plunge deeper, she follows, her moans washing over me as I seek her climax with a hundred times more importance than my own. And when I lace my fingers through hers and sink them into the pillow under her hair, we find it, her body hugging me as she bites her lip and even then, all I can think is that I want more: not from her, not even of her, but _for_ her.

But we've never been balanced when it comes to our priorities over each other, and when I pursue another she changes the game, shoving me onto my back so she can take control. She sinks down on me and it's all I can do to hold it together, my teeth gritted as she rocks her hips and rolls her body, somehow knowing exactly the pace and rhythm to bring me proverbially to my knees. But Elena's been wordlessly commanding me since before I knew her name and too soon, too _everything_, I've forgotten that there was anything I ever cared about beside the curve of her waist, the sight of her above me with tangled, tossed hair and red lips, my black button down draped over her breasts and parted just beneath them so I can see every other inch of her below.

I surge up and wrap my arms around her, pulling her tighter, deeper, daring to love her harder as she bucks against me at the switch of the angle and then it's starting again. She winds an arm around my neck, her forehead leaning tiredly against my shoulder as I pull her down and thrust up and she's shaking, her teeth scraping my skin as she bites me through her orgasm and it's delicious. I cradle the back of her neck and feel her softness, her heat, her comfort and her beauty and easy eroticism and she shifts her mouth over mine, her tongue sliding against my own and when everything becomes too much and burns out of me and finds its place in her, her hands and legs lock down like she knows how much I need her because she's the reason I'm falling apart, and she's the only thing capable of keeping me together.

I come back into myself to find my body trembling under hers, Elena's fingertips smoothing over the contours of my cheeks and jaw as she kisses me, whispering things into my mouth that I can't discern but I somehow hear them anyway; my name a prayer and a question until I begin to kiss her back more eagerly.

She leans slightly away and smiles at me, her gaze sweet and a little teasing when she says, "Welcome back. I thought I lost you there for a minute."

I breathe a grin, and it was almost a laugh but it didn't quite get there. "Nope. But give me five minutes and I'll let you have another shot at it."

Her head falls back under her giggles, then she comes back and wraps her arms around my neck, leaning her forehead to mine. I hum contentedly, finding home on a different shore, and she gives me a moment to soak in the comfort of familiarity before saying, "You know, for such a quiet and sweet guy, you're really cocky in the bedroom."

I shrug. "We all have things we're good at. _You_ don't always get to be the best at everything, although I see you're willing to put up a fight for the title."

"You better believe it," she whispers, then shrieks with a laugh when I roll her without warning, her hair fanning out over my pillow as I hitch her leg higher around my waist.

Game on, sweetheart.

* * *

**A/N: There, we can all collectively sigh in relief because we made it to the sex! HOORAY! And there's more to come. Yep. Because when you've waited as long as they have and the dam breaks, it really breaks lol. Can't wait to hear your thoughts, every one of your reviews means so much to me and I greatly appreciate that you take the time to send them in. They mean more than you know :) Until this weekend, stay safe and be kind to one another, and happy reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	15. Flight of the Busy Bee

**A/N: Hello there, dear ones! I'm so thrilled that you all enjoyed the last chapter so much! Even after all the smut I've posted on this site, it still gives me butterflies every time and I cannot thank you guys enough for all the support. It really keeps me going :) **

**God bless Trogdor19, the best beta ever and who is back in the woods, and this time with Nightlightbright! How jealous are we? I know I am. But may they have a fabulous time and because they are both so amazing (and have no internet access for the moment) why don't we all go read their stuff and spam them with awesome reviews so they have lots of lovely things when they come back! Race you there! And in the meantime, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Flight of the Busy Bee**

I wake to the sound of my name being whispered, dainty fingernails pulling through the back of my hair before they tickle their way down my spine and when I breathe, it is all coffee and almonds and I smile.

"Scoot over," Elena tells me and I do, rolling onto my back to see that my room is still dark, but there's a line of light coming from my closet like she must have turned it on and cracked the door. And there's just enough light to see that she is ready for the day: gold eye shadow on and hair down and straightened, wearing an unassuming t-shirt with a pair of shorts.

"What time is it?" I mumble and yawn as she slips into bed beside me, Elena sitting up against the pillows with a textbook.

"Half past five," she whispers and I groan, rolling onto my stomach again and draping my arm across her lap as I hide my face in her side. "Stefan let me in, and you know what's funny?"

I grunt, and she squirms like it tickled.

"I think he might have been waiting for me because I was a few minutes late today..."

Stefan didn't meet Elena under ideal circumstances, but it's all good. The morning after her prom she and I were standing at the kitchen counter, making out more than making coffee, and that's when the front door opened and Stefan and Caroline walked in, coming back early from the B&B because of a reason that I'm guessing was a fight but they never explained. Probably because they were too busy sputtering at the sight of Elena wearing nothing more than my black button down.

I didn't see what the big deal was, it's not like we're all _adults _or anything, but Elena turned completely red and then hid behind me, which only made everything ten times weirder considering my boxers weren't exactly hiding my erection. But we suffered through an awkward name exchange and then slinked back to my bedroom, my girl completely mortified while I thought it was fairly hilarious, and then I made sure she forgot about the whole thing. Twice. With the understanding that we needed to be very, very quiet and it's something that she's gotten quite good at. Although I'd much rather hear the moans that I'm addicted to.

But it's worked out nicely that she met my brother and Caroline, because Elena's taken to coming over in the mornings before she goes to school and instead of having to knock on the front door, Stefan usually lets her in when they pass each other on the stairs or in the parking lot. And she'll read or study while I drift in and out of consciousness, unless I can convince her to get rid of her books, but then she's gone again like twenty minutes later. And as much as it blows that she's always leaving, I wouldn't give this up because I love waking up to her voice every morning. Well, apart from the weekends when I wake up alone, and then immediately begin praying for Monday.

She turns a page in her textbook and when I smooth my palm down the inside of her silky thigh, she lightly laughs.

"I have to study…"

"Your priorities are so backwards," I grumble, then shift so I'm lying in between her long legs because that's the best place in the entire world to be. She scoots down a little so I can rest my cheek on her stomach, my arms hugged around her waist as I yawn again. "Ready for your last week?"

"Mm-hmm," she mumbles, then turns another page. "Once I get through this last Econ exam it's smooth sailing."

"You're not gonna cry?" I tease. "Be all weepy and sentimental as you recount the best years of your life?"

She scoffs. "If these are the best years of my life then murder me now, would you?"

"If I'm gonna murder you then there's no use stressing about some test," I counter, then snatch her textbook away and fling it across the room.

"Damon!"

I tug her down so she's fully stretched out underneath me, bracing my weight on my elbows as I bend to her neck. I inhale her intoxicating aroma, nuzzling and kissing her skin as I guide her legs tighter around me, pressing my erection against her. And it's only made better when she arches back under a moan, her hands sliding up my back while my fingertips tickle the skin just under the hem of her shorts.

"Why are you wearing so many clothes?" I breathe, and she shakes her head.

"I have to go to school…"

"Play hooky with me."

She laughs, but still turns her face to afford me a better angle as I trail my lips across her neck and jaw, up to her cheek and kissing the corner of her smile. "You are the worst influence, just ever."

"You love it, otherwise you wouldn't—"

I get cut off when her phone's alarm begins to ring, and I lift my head to playfully glare at her. But my brow furrows when she curses and then pushes at my shoulder, and I roll off her. She springs from the bed, muttering to herself as she searches frantically for her textbook and tries to straighten her shirt and runs her hands through her hair.

"Was that the signal for a nuclear holocaust or something?" I ask and she whips around, hopping on one foot as she tugs on her shoes.

"Yeah, it kinda was because I am so not ready for this test and I didn't get through the last few pages because you were being all _cute_ and _distracting _and—"

"Elena," I say calmingly, "_relax_. How much more time do you need?"

"I can't skip school, Damon!" she hisses, and I roll out of bed and turn on the overhead light. We both wince at the sudden brightness, but I instantly spy her textbook in the corner and I pick it up.

"I'm only asking because if you want, I'll drive you to school so you can read on the way."

She blinks at me, taking the book as I hand it to her. "Seriously?" she asks, and I nod. "Oh my God, _thank you_, but we need to leave like _now._"

I shrug. "It takes me two seconds."

And true to my word, a minute later I've got on jeans and a t-shirt, Elena hugging my back as I run a toothbrush through my mouth and swipe on some deodorant, and then we're hurriedly making our way down the stairs toward the parking lot.

"Keys," I tell her, and when I catch her car keys after she tosses them at me, I fist pump.

"You're lucky we're late, Salvatore. I don't have to time to resist you today."

I scoff as I open the passenger door for her because that's so not what she was saying while we were in my bed, but I'm also not going to offer up the pitiful truth which is that my car doesn't have enough gas in it to get her to school without stopping first, and that's only going to make her _more_ late. Plus, I've wanted to get behind the steering wheel of her flirty little X6 forever and I'm certainly not going to pass up the opportunity.

Although I almost wish I had when I get in her driver's seat, because it's so close to the wheel I damn near break my dick off in the process of sitting down.

"You better put it all back to where it was," she growls teasingly at me while I adjust her mirrors, and I roll my eyes.

"Stop worrying about what I'm doing and _study_," I tell her as I pull out of the parking lot, having more than a little fun testing the get-up-and-go of her 450 horsepower V8. And the crossover drives like a dream: big enough to feel secure, but corners like a coupe and it's so smooth that you could go eighty and think you were rolling at three miles per hour. And I never understood why she was so in love with the heads up display on the windshield because I thought it would be distracting to have the gauges on the glass like some futuristic hologram instead of just on the dashboard, but the truth is, if her speedometer wasn't at eyelevel I'd probably earn another few rounds of speeding tickets in the vicinity of ten minutes.

I glance at Elena as I stop at a red light since she's been silent for the last ten minutes, and I can't help my smile when I see her entirely focused on her book and nodding to herself like she's agreeing with whatever she's reading about. But that's when I notice the empty coffee cups filling her cup holder, a few crumpled fast food bags on her floorboard and in her backseat, enough clothes to outfit an entire army. And the closer we get to the school, the more the sun rises over the horizon and it's enough to reveal a slight layer of dust on her dashboard like she hasn't had it detailed in a while.

I slightly shake my head to myself. I can't wait until she graduates and has more time to just stop and breathe. She's probably going to sleep for a week and then go batshit insane trying figure out what to do with her days when she doesn't have to be in a dozen places at once.

Another ten minutes later I pull into the student parking lot, trying to not have some sort of PTSD flashback from all the times I was here doing the same thing, but I forget about it all when Elena suddenly closes her textbook with a relieved sigh and then stuffs it into her backpack at her feet.

"Feeling any better?" I ask as I stop close enough to the door so that she's not walking forever, but far enough back that no one is going to see my face, and she nods.

"Yeah, I think it's gonna be okay. I just really needed those extra twenty minutes."

More like she needs six extra hours in her day, but if twenty minutes helps, I'm happy to give it to her. Even if that means I'm up at five-thirty in the morning.

"Good." I smile. "So—"

"Oh my God, how are you gonna get home?" she suddenly bursts out all panicked, and I snort.

"I brought my cape," I say with a wink, and she smacks my arm. "It's fine, Elena. I'll take your car and I'll pick you up later. You're done at ten?"

"Yeah, but…don't you have to go to work?"

"Not until eleven," I answer. "We have plenty of time."

She blows out a breath, then points at me in something that's supposed to be threatening. "Okay. Just don't wreck my car."

"Where's the trust?"

She smiles and leans over to give me a quick kiss, then slides out of the car and grabs her backpack from the floorboard.

"Have a great day, honey," I say mockingly, even though I mean it, and she rolls her eyes with a blush before she shuts the door and begins making her way to the entrance of the school.

I watch as a girl on a skateboard—who must be Bonnie—comes to a screeching halt beside Elena, then after a quick verbal exchange immediately turns around and starts squinting at the car from where they're at, a good fifty feet away. Elena grabs her sleeve and turns her back around, and I chuckle to myself when I see Bonnie give her a non-discreet high-five before some guy runs up and slings his arm around Bonnie's shoulders. To which she responds by immediately shoving him off and then starts bitching him out.

I snort and pull around to head out of the parking lot, wondering if four hours is enough time to clean her disaster of a car before I come back and pick her up. Guess we'll find out.

* * *

"So…" Ric drawls as he racks the pool balls at our regular table, the one that we haven't been frequenting as often as we used to, but we've both been busy. "How badly does your face hurt from grinning like a moron every minute of every day?"

"Shut up," I tell him, chalking my cue. "Like you haven't been doing the same since you started seeing what's-his-face."

Ric's been spending a lot of his free time with a guy that he says he knew back in high school, but who moved away after getting married. The story is that he's now back in town after getting a divorce from his wife and coming to terms with the fact that he likes men more than he ever liked women, and Ric claims he's not putting much stock in the whole thing, but I think he's just afraid of getting burned again. I don't blame him.

My buddy may be all scruff and sturdy plaid on the outside, but he always falls fast and hard. Usually before he realizes that he fell for a scumbag. So for him to be carefully testing the waters with this guy says a lot, despite his constant repetition that they're "just friends."

Yeah, Elena and I were just friends too, and look how that turned out. But I'd much rather Ric take the time to be sure before he turns up the heat with this guy because I really don't want to see him go through another round of unfaithful and snobby boyfriends. It's worth waiting for the right one.

_So_ worth it.

"There's no comparison," Ric tells me, then breaks, and I narrow my eyes when he sinks two solids. "I _like _Mason, you're _gone_ for Elena."

I shrug, because we both know he's right. "Not gonna deny, life's been a lot sweeter since she graduated."

"And why is that? Feeling a little less guilty, buddy?" he taunts, and I lightly punch his shoulder when he slides past me to aim up for his next shot.

"Dick," I mutter and he chuckles. "No, I'm cool with all that."

"Finally," he says, and I ignore him as he starts going after his remaining balls on the table with a predator's focus.

"But since she retired her textbooks and her backpack, her dad loosened the range on her curfew so she's now free to roam as she pleases." I tilt my head, then add, "For the most part."

"And I'm guessing her 'roaming' leads straight to your apartment?"

I clear my throat and he snorts, then curses under his breath when he scratches. He straightens and picks up his beer from the edge of the table and hands me mine, even though I'm not drinking it.

"Must be nice," Ric says, tapping his beer bottle against mine, and I breathe a grin before setting my beer back down and lining up my shot because he has no idea how right he is.

She'll come over in the mornings before she has to be at the dance studio she joined for the summer, and she _actually_ scheduled her first class so that it doesn't start until the same time I have to be at work. Then after her shift ends at the store, if she wants to go "hang out with her friends" then she can, as long as she's home by three A.M. It's still hard to watch her get in her X6 in the wee hours of the morning after quarrelling over one last kiss and five more minutes, but the procrastination debates that always happen before my hands become painfully empty are conquered when occasionally she "slumbers it at April's" and those are the best nights. Can't get enough of those.

Even if it's somewhat unnerving that her parents think I'm a chick, but whatever. I don't care as long as I get to have her with me.

"Although," Ric says and I look at him after my third striped ball finds a pocket, "it begs the question that if Elena is a semi-freed jailbird, then what are you doing _here_?"

I bat my eyelashes in the picture of innocence. "Can't a guy play a game of pool with his best friend without the Spanish Inquisition making an appearance?"

"Uh-huh. And she's _where_ right now?"

I snort, then take my next shot. "Somewhere above our heads, flying back from Atlanta."

"Visiting family?"

I chew the inside of my lip and move to hit my next ball, but instead of dropping in the corner pocket, it bounces off the wooden corner and rolls back to the middle of the table in defeat. "A school."

I straighten and sneak a peek at Ric, and his eyes are as wide as mine were when she told me. At least Elena and I were on the phone so I could play if off like it was no big deal.

"Is she…?"

"I don't know," I tell him quietly, re-chalking my cue, then I blow out a breath and scrub a hand over my face. "She's been accepted to like six different places and the one that I'm rooting for is here in Tucson, but you know Elena and she said she wanted to check this one out just to be safe and…yeah."

It's not exactly encouraging that she's been unsuccessfully trying to downplay how much she likes this school in Atlanta—Emory University, AKA my shiny new nemesis—and I always want her to have everything her heart desires, but secretly? I'm praying she hated the place as soon as she set foot on the campus. Being not even twenty minutes away at the University of Arizona? That we can deal with. Being separated by six states and 1700 miles? That's a whole other battle.

Ric arches an eyebrow at me that tells me he already knows exactly what I've been thinking for the past few weeks since she got her acceptance letter, but apparently he still feels it necessary to voice it by asking, "And your plan on how to deal with this if she decides to go to Atlanta is…?"

I shift my weight, waiting to speak until after he shoots. "Not a fucking clue," I confess.

"Sorry, man. That sucks."

"Yeah, well it ain't over 'til it's over," I say with a smirk, but he doesn't look like he's buying it. He doesn't say anything else though as he continues making every shot he takes, and when I check the clock on the wall, I curse, hanging up my pool cue on the rack nailed to the wall. "Gotta head out, I'll see you later," I tell him and he nods.

"Tell her I said hi."

"Will do."

And the whole time I'm in my car, my stomach is twisting because she hasn't given me the score yet on what happened while she was there, and it's been like waiting for the jury to come back with the verdict because I have zero control over what she decides. And I feel so sickly selfish about the whole school thing, but I can't really help it. _For once_, I just want something to be easy for us.

I always figured that once we got past the age stuff that we would be home free, and we were, for about five minutes. But Elena possibly leaving the state is a problem I don't know how to combat because it's not a matter of waiting it out. It's either happening, or it's not.

But I don't have an option to do anything but what I've _been_ doing, and that's to try my best to let it go for now while I park and then get out of my car, leaning back against my door as I call her.

"_I hate airplanes,"_ she says grouchily as soon as she answers, and I smile.

"I take it that's a 'no way in hell' on getting your pilot's license then?"

"_Okay, so maybe it's not the planes. More like the guy that was sitting next to me and eating Corn Nuts the entire time."_

I groan in disgusted solidarity, and she sighs.

"_Tell me about it. Now I have to—that one, yes the…thank you—sorry, I'm at baggage claim. Where was I?"_

"You now have to…"

"_Right, I now have to figure out how I'm supposed to get home since my father so kindly _abandoned_ me thanks to my _even dumber_ brother. Is it too late to request to be an only child?"_

I shake my head, trying to muffle my snort. The latest hoopla in the Gilbert household is that Elena's brother got busted for trespassing after he and his friends decided it would be a stellar idea to throw a party at a house in their neighborhood that was under construction, and that took place about three hours after Daddy was on a plane to the other side of the country with Elena. And yeah, I imagine Mr. Mercedes was super pissed because it probably doesn't look all that great for a lawyer who's getting ready to run for Judge to have his son get arrested. Cut to Papa Gilbert having to abbreviate his end of the trip so he could immediately fly back to Tucson and bail out his son—meaning make the charges disappear—and that left Elena taking her two day tour at Emory all alone.

But Gilbert, Jr. is now out with a slap on the wrist, and oddly enough it ended up working out for everyone that he decided to pull his stunt this weekend. Because the Gilberts are now far, far away at an impromptu three day camping trip with some county officials that Elena says her dad has been desperate to rub elbows with, and Elena is coming home to an empty house. However, that also left her with no transportation from the airport to aforementioned empty manor.

"You're not going to rent a car, are you?" I ask, and she huffs again. "It's going to take forever and it's a pain in the ass."

"_Then why don't you tell me the magic solution, Damon?" _she says shortly, and I roll my eyes. But she's been on a plane for almost six hours and I can't really blame her for being snippy._ "Because_ I_ think the best plan of action is to trade sexual favors for a ride from Señor Corn Nuts. How's that sound?" _

My eyes widen, and I bite my cheeks against a grin. Talk about spoiling for a fight, and that's exactly what I'll be getting if I dare to laugh right now.

"Take a cab, Elena," I say calmly. "It's gonna cost the same as a car, you can leave right away instead of spending an hour filling out paperwork_ and_ you won't have to drive."

She's quiet for a moment, and the corner of my lips pulls up when she mumbles, _"I hate it when you have the perfect answer to everything."_

"It's called wisdom, babe. Bonus of dating an older guy," I tease, and she makes a sound like she scoffed her way into at least half a smile.

"_I really missed you,"_ she says softly, and my grin stretches a little wider.

Fight successfully averted.

"So, tell me more about this Señor Corn Nuts that you're so willing to trade sexual favors with. Should I be worried?"

"_Ew, no! He was so gross, just crunching away the entire flight and they were the _Ranch_ flavored kind…"_

"Ugh."

"_I swear, Damon, like ten different times I almost slapped the bag out of his hand."_ I snicker, and she picks up steam as she continues with, _"But you'll be so proud of me, because I managed to resist smacking the crap out of him after telling myself that if I got wrangled into submission by an Air Marshall and subsequently detained, then the cops probably wouldn't let me have the twenty taquitos and gallon of coffee that I desperately need to keep from going __Kerouac__ on everyone's asses." _

I burst out laughing, and once I catch my breath I manage to get out, "Is that right?"

"_Oh yeah, you have no idea the wrath—"_

She suddenly cuts off, and then I hear her gasp.

"You really thought I was going to make you take a cab?" I say smoothly into the phone, even as I'm watching Elena gape at me from thirty feet away: her cell phone pressed to her ear and her other fingers curled around the handle of her massive polka dotted rolling suitcase while she stands stock still under a large sign that says Baggage Claim Pick-Up / Terminal Drop Off for Tucson International.

I hang up and put my phone in my pocket, crossing my arms with a grin as I continue leaning against the side of my car, watching while she makes her way towards me: her messy ponytail swinging from side to side under each step her long legs take, the reveal of her skin only punctuated on each end by her worn-out Converse and her wrinkled shorts and even more wrinkled t-shirt. And the closer she gets the more I can tell that she has the faintest bags under her eyes, only noticeable because she doesn't have on a speck of makeup and forgot her sunglasses in my car the last time she was in it.

And she looks amazing as always, but she also looks completely and utterly drained.

She stops in front of me, her eyes wide in disbelief, and I take her luggage from her and then wind my other arm around her waist, pulling her against me.

"If I refuse to give you taquitos and coffee, does that mean I get to watch you go Kerouac on everyone's asses?"

"I can't believe you're here," she breathes, and I smile and tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

"Oh come on," I drawl. "You knew I was gonna pick you up. Admit it."

"I really didn't," she says and shakes her head. "Knight-on-a-white-stallion wishful thinking is one thing, but—"

"Elena," I say gently, because she's looking at me like I just saved a dozen kittens from drowning while lassoing the moon or something. "First, my car is red. And second, it's not that big of a deal."

"Damon, you don't get it," she says, her voice a little thicker than normal like she's getting choked up, her hands fisting into the front of my shirt. "One minute I'm looking for a cab which I really didn't want to take, and the plane ride _sucked_ and everything else over the last few days has been so, so _awful_, and then all of a sudden that big blue shuttle bus moved and _there you were_ like Jake from _Sixteen Candles_ and I…" She trails off and sucks in a shaky breath, then squeaks out, "And _his_ car was red _too_…"

I try not to laugh as I cup her face in my hands, kissing her sweetly because I haven't been able to do that for days, and when I touch my forehead to hers, she blows out an unsteady breath. And she hardly ever gets all worked up over romantic stuff but I know she's also overwhelmed from worrying about her brother and seeing the school she won't admit that she has her heart set on, plus she's twenty hours past exhausted and admittedly starving, which is why there is a massive cup of coffee in my car along with two burritos. And a hard-shell taco, just to be safe.

I pull her into me, dropping a kiss to her hair as she hugs me tightly, then my nose wrinkles.

"You really weren't kidding about the Corn Nuts, were you?"

* * *

**A/N: Yay, he finally got to drive her car! And yes, I am a complete and total sucker for all John Hughes movies, sue me lol. But the really cool thing is that my husband actually pulled that exact same maneuver when we were younger: I was coming back from a trip and when the bus pulled into the parking lot, there he was, leaning against the side of his car (which was a black v8 Mustang, and talk about swoon factor!) It's such a blast to include some of my favorite memories in my stories, and I can't wait to hear what you guys thought about this chapter :) See you guys next week, and until then eat as many gummy bears as possible and dance in the rain if at all possible. (is that a better sign off, mystery guest reviewer? ;) *blows kisses***

**-Goldnox**


	16. Slowly Imminent

**A/N: Good afternoon, darlings :) Hope you all have been doing well, it's been a little quiet around here and I've missed you guys! Hope you're all still enjoying the story as much as I love it :)**

**Blessed be to Trogdor19 for keeping me motivated both on and off the laptop, for pumping me up with encouragement and for never failing to be the best friend/beta ever. Love you girl! And I'm so excited about your new novel even though there's still like 8 others that need to be written, but I can never get enough of your amazing way with words!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Slowly Imminent**

"I need to tell you something…" I whisper into Elena's lips, and she barely manages to shake her head.

"Does it have to be right now?"

I smile, then nod. "Yep."

Knowing she was hundreds of miles away from me for the past few days was devastating, and I couldn't get her back in my bed fast enough. So I buckled her in my SS and got her speedily back here, and after she soaked in a bubble bath and then crashed for a few hours while I lit enough candles to probably burn down my apartment building, we slipped out of everything resembling clothing and have been making up for each minute that she was out of my sight.

Thoroughly, too, because I can't feel my legs and it's an unparalleled level of glorious, and we're somehow now facing the wrong way on the bed with our heads where our feet normally tangle under the sheets. And said sheets? Bunched in the corner against the wall because Elena declared they were in the way.

And _that_, along with many other reasons, is why I'm somehow trying to find the ability to speak while I make love to her. Not that my conversation skills are proving to be all that successful with her nude body stretched out underneath mine: her skin glowing under soft flickering flames and her hands tracing my back, her legs distractedly sliding up and over my waist and then hugging me closer before she shifts, planting her feet on the bed to push her hips up into mine. And it's making my voice slip between slurred and husky whispers, starting strong before I fail and forget that I was going to do anything but just enjoy her, but I need her to know this.

"You're completely crazy," I start gently, a hint of a smile in my voice as I smooth my cheek against hers, pushing forward just enough to compliment her with another inch of my cock. "And a bit of a pushover…"

"Not nice," she says with a pout, but half of it fades when my lips find the delicate skin below her ear.

"Just wait for it," I whisper and she nods, dazed, then moans throatily when I tickle my fingertips over her side, grazing the length of her leg all the way down to her sweet little ankle and I just…I am so completely lost in this girl.

I tease her mouth with mine, stealing long, slow kisses that I'm blessed with each time her chin tilts up under her back bowing, her eyelashes swept down as her head turns, purely reveling in the feeling of skin against skin and unhurried strokes that go on forever.

And only when she's overlooking everything except for my lips, my tongue, my hands and my body, do I begin again.

"Your punctuality sucks," I say with a chuckle and she groans, frustrated. But I thrust deeper and her body immediately loosens under me, the first strands of her hair beginning to tickle the floor with how quickly we're approaching the end of the mattress.

"We're gonna fall…" she breathes, one of her hands reaching up above her to brace herself against the carpet. "Not that I care, but…you know…"

"You're too smart for your own good," I tell her quietly, and a smile pulls at the corner of her lips. I kiss it devotedly, taking a second to brush her hair back from her face. "Mine too."

"Is there a reason why you're saying this?" she asks breathlessly, but her words are interrupted by moans and gasps as she both pulls away and comes closer, her skin oversensitive and her tiny frame exhausted, but always wanting more.

Because she's Elena, and she never gets enough of anything I give her, and I absolutely adore her for it.

"Because," I start softly, cupping the back of her neck and my elbow greeting carpet as I push just a little deeper, but still slow, always slow. And I don't know why everything is so intense tonight, why I can't seem to kiss her enough, but I love the fact that she doesn't care, just letting me leisurely steal and share breaths when I plunge my hips in the way we both crave.

But this time her head falls back, her throat bared as her long legs slip higher around my hips, clinging to me in the only way she can with her hands now reaching for anything above her that she can grasp. I dip my head and taste the delicate skin that's under her chin, kissing my way up until my mouth hovers over hers.

"You are too beautiful to be this naked," I say with a smile, "having sex while falling off a mattress that sits on the floor…"

She giggles quietly, then sucks in a breath when I tilt my hips to the angle I know she needs, the rhythm of her breaths guiding me to the right length of a pause, the tempo of my body calibrated exactly to rule over hers. "Damon, I'm…"

"Close?" I breathe, and she nods.

There's something so sweet that even now, after countless times of being together, she still can't say it.

"Elena…" I whisper, moving a little higher up her body so I can cushion her neck with my forearm, the back of her shoulders just starting to encounter the carpet and I reach down with my other hand, pulling her legs tighter around me. When she squeaks and shivers, I release her thigh to cup her cheek, pulling a tender and hazy kiss from her lips.

"I know, I know…I'll be quiet," she pants, and I shake my head.

"No, not that…" I trail off, lost in the way she's trembling, how her walls are fluttering around me and the fact that in my entire life, I've never been this close with another person. And I know with everything I have in me, that I will never want to be this way with anyone else. "Elena, I'm so in love with you."

Her body clamps down around me as her back arches, beautiful silence ringing out around us as she climaxes fiercely, trusting me to catch her, support her.

My girl.

Her muscles soon unlock and she gasps, her eyes opening in shock like she always does, like it's the first time all over again.

We're now more on the floor than not and I lock my arm around her waist, keeping her with me as I carefully roll us fully onto the carpet, then once more so she's on her back and can rest comfortably. But I can only take a second of being apart from her and I slide her leg up so the arch of her foot is flat on the floor, losing myself again in the warm comfort of her body, her delicate hands fierce in their claim.

She sucks in a breath when I enter her, and I pause.

"The carpet too rough?" I ask quietly, but she shakes her head.

"No, that feels good," she says and I smile, then thrust again. Harder. She hisses through her teeth, but her nails are also digging into my shoulder blades and since it's not our first time on the floor, I know she loves the contradiction of soft yet rough fibers marking their way up the silky skin of her back.

"Damon…"

"Mm-hmm?" I murmur, but really all I can think is that I have to keep touching her, kissing her, burying myself inside of her so deep that it feels like we'll never be able to separate. So I brace my weight on my elbows above her shoulders, all of her hair fanned out on the floor in front of me like a trail of beautiful and I will follow, I will follow…

She pinches her eyes closed and bites her lip, her chin tilting up as her head goes back and I know that look. She's almost there, because I know she feels it like I do, and I'm honestly amazed that she hasn't already brought me to pieces with her again but for now, it's still her that's continually falling apart.

Truthfully, I'm in awe of her. I'm at two and barely functioning, but she never quits.

She is without a doubt the most incredible thing I've ever seen.

"Wait, wait," she whispers and I go still, then nip at her bottom lip.

"We tried that," I tease. "It sucked."

She giggles quietly and it's all I need to tell me to keep moving, until her voice comes back.

"Damon," she tries again, and it's a measure of pride that it takes her a minute afterward to continue. And when she does, it's a confused mumble of, "Did you really just rattle off a list of my faults, then tell me you love me right before making me…?"

I look down at her, and her eyes are open and soft, drunk on orgasms and something else entirely. I think it might be me.

"Maybe…" I drawl, and she grins and shakes her head.

"You really missed me, didn't you?" she says quietly, and I have no idea if she's being serious or teasing me, but when she cups my jaw and pulls my mouth back down to hers, then wraps her arms around my neck, I realize it doesn't matter.

Because she heard me.

* * *

"Morning, brother," I say when Stefan stops next to me at the kitchen counter, and I hand him the coffee pot.

He grunts as I pour the creamer into my mug, then he snorts. "Want some coffee with your cream?"

"Shut up," I mumble, stirring it and then passing him the spoon. And I don't usually use this much, but Elena likes a ton of creamer and I can deal with it.

He yawns and then takes a sip of his own coffee. "Can't believe we're up before the girls…"

"Elena's wiped out," I saw with a yawn myself. "Long trip."

He gives me a look I don't have time to decode before he claps me on the shoulder, and then he shuffles back to his room and I return to mine. I shut the door quietly behind me and Elena is still asleep, the sheet halfway down her bare back and her hair a mess over my pillow. Her hands are tucked under her chin with her face towards the wall, and suddenly, it feels like I need to know this image, to remember it.

And that thought scares the shit out of me.

I set down the coffee cup on my nightstand and slip back in bed with her, Elena immediately humming her protest at having to wake up as she turns over and curls into me.

"You left," she whispers and I pull my fingertips through her long hair, her body warm and soft from sleep as it melts into mine.

"I know better than to wake you without coffee," I tell her, and I feel her lips curve into a smile against my chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Mmm, so much better than stupid hotel rooms…"

I swallow and hug my arms around her, soaking her in.

"What's wrong?" she asks, and I breathe a sad smile. She never lets me get away with anything.

I actually debate lying and saying that I'm fine, but that won't get us anywhere except where we already are. And I really don't want to get into this when she just woke up, but I don't have a choice but to be honest.

"You're keeping a secret from me," I tell her, and when she doesn't say anything, it says absolutely everything. I clear my throat and smooth my palm up her spine, my voice calm and steady. "You've done really well at it too," I tease with a smile. "Especially by distracting me with sex all night. Excellent sleight of hand, sweetheart."

"I'm not—"

"Elena," I interrupt gently, "you did the same thing with prom. You know I didn't even realize until that night that you had never told me about your plans for after the dance? Which worked out in my favor," I say and chuckle lightly, even though trying to keep my tone relaxed is becoming more and more difficult. "But this time…" I trail off and shake my head. "I'm thinking not so much."

She scoots a little closer into me, and I swallow.

"What happened at the school that was so awful?" I ask, and she shakes her head. I blow out a breath and then shift so I can look down at her face, smiling comfortingly. "Your coffee's getting cold."

Her eyes widen as I tuck her hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek in my hand before I lift a soft kiss from her lips. She's still staring at me in shock when I sit us both up, then slide out of bed and head over to the closet, grabbing a t-shirt off a hanger.

"That's it?" she asks when I come back and hand her the shirt, waiting as she tugs it on and then pulls her hair out of the collar. "You're not going to make me talk about it?"

"I'm not going to_ make_ you do anything," I say as I sit back on the bed, facing her, then hand her the coffee mug. "But we _are _going to talk about it."

She takes a sip and then passes it back to me, and after I take my own deep pull, I clear my throat.

"It's…" she starts, then looks down at her hands in her lap, shifting her weight before she blows out a breath and risks a smile. "It's _perfect_."

The corner of my lips pulls up, even as parts inside of me are breaking apart. "And what constitutes perfect?" I ask and hand her the coffee mug.

Her eyes dart up to mine. "You sure you want to hear this?"

I nod, reaching over to lace her free hand with mine. "I'm sure."

She lets a wide smile paint her face. "It just…it has everything I want. The classes, they're all composition and choreography and theory and they do these really amazing performance arts pieces and it's not just classical ballet, it's also modern and interpretive and the campus is _amazing_ and it's…it's just perfect."

I squeeze her hand. "Congratulations," I say and try to sound a calm that I don't feel. "So is this the one? Emory's where you're going to go?"

She waits, and then slowly, she nods.

"Okay," I tell her as supportively as possible, but I know it doesn't fool her.

Especially when she tilts her head, and very timidly says, "Then why do you look like you're about to break up with me?"

My brow furrows.

"Please," she breathes, her gaze dropping down to our interlocked fingers, "don't break up with me, Damon. I know this is hard but—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," I tell her, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are sparkling with tears. I wince and take the coffee cup from her, setting it down on the nightstand, and when I tug lightly on her hand she doesn't hesitate to scramble over to me, straddling my lap and squeezing me tightly. I hug her securely, my palm cupping her neck under her hair. "Elena, _you're_ the one breaking up with _me,_" I say delicately, and she leans back in alarm.

"What? No!"

I offer her a soft smile. "You're leaving, Elena. Moving to the other side of the country and that's a_ good_ thing, because this is your dream. It's what I want for you."

"That doesn't mean…" She trails off, then says with determination, "We'll do long distance, phone calls and texts and I'll visit when I can and—"

"You know that doesn't work, baby," I say gently. "Relying on talking barely kept us together when we were both _here_."

"Damon, don't do this," she chokes out, and I take her face in my hands.

"It's going to be okay," I tell her and she shakes her head decisively. "You are going to have so much fun, being in a new city and making new friends and you'll be so busy with school and dance that you won't even notice."

Her bottom lip trembles and she sucks in a shaky breath, her tiny hands winding around my wrists and keeping me in place. "Come with me," she pleads, and I exhale.

"You know I can't."

"Why?" she squeaks, and I smile sadly. She and I both know that there's no way I can afford to just pick up and move. I can barely afford to live here, even with my brother and Caroline helping, and Atlanta is way more expensive than Tucson. She sniffles and her grip on me tightens. "We'll figure something out, I'll help you, we'll—"

"Elena," I say strongly, everything in me aching as tears continually slide down her cheeks. "You're going to have to let me go. When you leave, that's it. It'll be the end."

"No," she whimpers and slams against me, hugging me fiercely. "You don't just get to decide this. I'm in this too and I say we're _not_ going to break up."

"Yes, we are," I tell her and her shoulders shake against me. "When do you leave for school?"

"Never, because I'm not going," she mutters, and I huff a laugh.

"So you're going to do what? Move in here, share my mattress and take pizza orders for the rest of your life? Your dad will be thrilled."

"It's not funny," she whispers. "And I'll do it, Damon. _I will_."

I nod. "But I won't let you."

She lets out a single sob, and I lean back, wiping away her tears. And once her cheeks are dry I take her chin under my thumb, kissing her faithfully.

"I need you to tell me when you leave."

She blows out an unsteady breath, her voice shaky when she says, "August 12th."

"Okay, so we have almost two months before we have to deal with this. We just…we make them count."

She nods, wiping at her eyes again. "Every single minute," she promises, then presses her lips against mine. Her tongue dives desperately into my mouth as my fingertips slip under the edge of her t-shirt, slowly pulling it up and off, and something in me knows that I'll never forget the sight of her hair spilling down over her shoulders between us.

But I need all of her, to be inside of her, and I know she needs it like I do because without a word she reaches between us and frees me, her mouth trembling against mine as her slender fingers stroke me once before she sinks down. And I can't get enough of her, how she's always ready for me and I don't stop myself from gripping her firmly, feeling every inch of her and memorizing how delicate she feels in my hands.

How much she fits.

Because I know that too soon I'm going to have to let her go, but until that day comes it doesn't change the truth: she's mine.

She was always supposed to be mine…

"I'm gonna take a shower," I say a little while later, Elena flirting with sleep in the bed beside me. She reaches for my hand after I roll out of bed, and I squeeze it before letting her go and throwing on enough clothes to get from my room to the bathroom.

I ignore the sight of Stefan and Caroline on the couch, then shut the bathroom door behind me. I strip down and step into the hot water, letting it wash away all the evidence of a futile fight, because it doesn't matter how many more times I make love to her, she's still leaving.

My eyes sting and I brace myself with a hand on the tile, my head hanging as water rushes over me but it doesn't help. It can't erase the pain I just hid from her over the last two hours. Because I can't let her know how completely abandoned I feel that she loves something more than us, how angry I am at my own failures because I can't follow her.

I grit my teeth and slam the base of my fist against the tile, my whole body shaking, and I don't care anymore to try to keep it from happening.

I go deep.

But I'm only halfway numb when the shower curtain is ripped open, Elena wearing my t-shirt and a pair of my pajama pants. She steps in without bothering to get undressed, instantly soaking wet under the water as I blink at her in confusion.

Her hands cradle my jaw, looking at me intently before she sweeps her fingertips over my cheeks like I always do to her whenever she lets herself cry in front of me. "Why didn't you tell me?" she breathes, and I shake my head.

"Tell you what?"

She stretches up, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I thought…I thought you didn't _care_, you took the whole thing so well."

My eyes pinch closed as I drop my lips to her shoulder, and I shake my head.

"Tell me the truth, Damon…"

"I…" I trail off, then grit out, "Elena, why _wouldn't_ I hate this?" I swallow, but my voice still cracks as I hug her tightly. "I don't want you to go," I whisper, ashamed, then blow out a breath and make my voice be stronger, steadier. "But you have to."

She stays silent for a moment, her nails combing through my wet hair before very quietly, she asks, "Do you regret it? Being with me? If you had known this was going to happen, would you—"

"No," I tell her. "I regret a lot of things, but never you. Never us."

She leans back and tries to smile soothingly, and I tilt my head.

"Except for maybe one thing," I tell her, and her brow furrows. "I should have kissed you sooner."

She nods slowly, the corner of her mouth turning up. "Can't argue with that."

And as we hide in my shower from a reality that neither of us wants to face, I wish so much that I could take back all the wrong choices I made, all the times that I pushed her away and the endless supply of weeks and months that I took for granted, but I can't get those hours back.

And even if I could, it would never be enough to make up for what we're about to lose.

* * *

**A/N: So there we have it, a little smut, def some angst, as the way it should be :) Please don't forget to review guys, momentum is a hard thing to keep and I have to admit, the silence has been slowing me down a little. Please let me know if there's something happening in the story that's just not sitting well, I really do want to know. But also, please don't forget to hit those other buttons too because the next update is gonna be here ahead of schedule since something really fun is happening this weekend and I'm crazy excited! Hope you all have a wonderful day, and see you at the next chapter!**

**-Goldnox **


	17. Trading Traditions

**A/N: OH MY GOODNESS, YOU GUYS! I am totally and completely blown away by the outpouring of love and support that you guys gave the last chapter. Honestly, I am speechless! **

**I hope you all have a wonderful and safe 4th of July, and I know I will BECAUSE TROGDOR19 IS SITTING ON MY COUCH AND WATCHING TVD WITH ME EVEN AS I TYPE THIS! HOW FREAKING COOL IS THAT?**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Trading Traditions**

Elena huffs into my chest, wiggling a little like she's trying to get comfortable, and I grin. I'm a little surprised she's not asleep yet, seeing as how it's approaching two A.M., but she was already here hanging out with Caroline and my brother by the time I got home from work and she said she didn't wait up for me just to turn around and go to bed. Stubborn little thing that she is. But aside from my guilt over her lack of sleep, I love coming home on Saturdays to find her already here; her dance duffel in my room telling me that she's staying the night. Best way to end my day.

So after my shower and eating my share of the leftovers from the dinner Caroline cooked for them, I took my place next to Elena on the sofa, Stefan on the love seat with his ankles crossed on the coffee table, Caroline curled against him as she sighs and keeps fussing with a throw pillow like she's uncomfortable too. The girls have been crazy fidgety tonight. Not sure what that's about. Because Elena keeps nudging me and squirming and now we're fully stretched out, one of my feet on the floor with her settled on top of me, her hair tickling my nose and my hands holding the PlayStation controller somewhere over her spine.

She scoots a little closer and turns her head, then makes a frustrated noise and rubs the tip of her nose against me like it itches and she would rather just scratch it with my shirt than contemplate moving her hands from where they're tucked between my lower back and the couch cushion. She's so freaking cute when she's grumpy from being restless.

"Stop grunting on me," I whisper playfully, and she grumbles again in protest.

"I don't _grunt_."

"Yes you do—Ass!" I shout at Stefan, who just spun my Bugatti out and into the grass on the Nürburgring track. God, I hate this course so much. And he knows that too, which is why he picked it.

"What's the matter?" my brother taunts. "Can dish it out but can't take it?"

"You two are ridiculous," Caroline mutters, and Elena grunts again. "Why do we put up with them?"

Elena turns her face the other way to look at Caroline, and she shrugs. "Beats me."

"Excellent genes," Stefan offers, and both Elena and Caroline snort.

"Starving," Elena mutters, then she shifts so her chin is centered on my chest as she looks up at me. "Did you go shopping yesterday?"

I glance down at her, then look back to the game and wince when my tires spin loosely on gravel. "Possibly..."

Caroline laughs. "How you managed to get him to grocery shop is a mystery that I desperately want the answer to."

"He's a sucker for my wicked ways."

"TMI…" Stefan mumbles. Then barks out, "Dammit, Damon!" when I pass him in a turn.

I playfully narrow my eyes at Elena as she slides off the couch to standing, then I look back to the screen when she grabs Caroline's hand and hauls her up, towing her into kitchen.

"Did you not get enough dinner? _Or_ dessert?" Caroline says warmly, cabinets and the pantry opening with a single minded purpose.

"Don't let her fool you, Caroline, she's not really hungry," I call out into the kitchen, gritting my teeth when I take a turn too wide on the track and Stefan's black Bugatti gains on me. "She's just using it as an excuse to complain about what I bought because it's not all dye-laden processed sugar."

"Not all of us can survive on broccoli, Damon," Elena calls back, and I snort.

"You can't even tell the difference between broccoli and cauliflower." I suck in a breath and floor it through a turn, then jerk my chin at Stefan when he curses because I didn't spin out like we both assumed I would. Too bad for him that I'm a badass.

"And I have no desire to," Elena tells me. "All I need to know is that they both look like trees and I refuse to take part of deforestation."

Stefan's eyes widen with a grin as he looks over at me, and I shake my head with a laugh.

"Besides, life is short and food is good," Elena asserts, and Caroline laughs. "Oh! Grab those chips and that box of…_ugh_, never mind, he always buys the Multi-Grain Cheerios instead of the Honey Nut. Although there were supposed to be…" A drawer opens and shuts. "_Damon_," Elena whines, "where are my Chocolate Chunk Chewy granola bars?"

My nose wrinkles in distaste. Those things are nothing more than candy masquerading as a breakfast food.

"I love when you're here," Caroline says dotingly. "Solidarity is the single best excuse I've ever heard to eat non-stop junk food."

"Glad to be of service," Elena says, and it sounds like she just high-fived Caroline before more cabinets open, packages of empty calories probably being lined up on the kitchen counter like an army to be slayed.

"There should be some popcorn in here, and I hid some M&Ms from Stefan's insatiable sweet tooth…"

"Hey!" my brother yells.

"So we could make some trail mix, but we don't have any peanuts or anything," Caroline mutters over the unmistakable sound of a bag of chips being opened, then crunching followed by Elena sputtering.

"_Ew!_ You bought _Veggie Chips_, Damon!" Elena scolds and Stefan snorts. "You're gonna pay for that."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," I murmur. "And who said those were for _you_?" I tease loud enough for Elena to hear me, and her head pokes around the corner as she points at me threateningly. I pause the game, and Stefan sighs.

"I don't know why you're so snooty about eating healthy since you run all the—"

"Jackpot!" Caroline calls out and Elena disappears again, no doubt digging into whatever they scored that causes two dainty moans to come from the kitchen.

"You're both going to be sick," Stefan says, then un-pauses the game.

"I'd rather be sick and have Double Chocolate Milano cookies than not," Elena mumbles, and Stefan's head whips towards the kitchen as he pauses the game again.

"Those were _mine_."

Caroline snorts as everything else in the kitchen goes suddenly silent, then with her words all garbled like she has a full mouth, Elena says sweetly, "Stefan, can I have one of your cookies?"

He chuckles and shakes his head, then responds with a patient, "Do I even have a choice?"

"Not really," Elena tells him flatly, and I grin as I un-pause the game again.

The girls start whispering and giggling in the kitchen, and I check the map on the game to see we're on our last lap. Good, too, because whenever Elena gets in these little moods she doesn't hesitate to bring the assertiveness with her into the bedroom, and that's exactly where she and I will be going as soon as I get done with this race.

I couldn't stop thinking about her all damn day, but I needed to put in some time with Stefan and Caroline tonight before Elena and I disappear between my bed sheets. I've been more than a little consumed by her lately, and my brother and Caroline haven't said anything about me basically abandoning them in favor of my girlfriend, but I still feel a little guilty about it.

"You would think you'd be better at this, with all your years of practice," I taunt Stefan, and he scoffs.

"Maybe I just let you win to help your self-esteem."

"Sure," I drawl, my eyes and focus narrowing on the finish line that's rapidly approaching.

But my vision is suddenly blocked by Elena and Caroline running into the living room: Elena launching at me on the couch and I'm assuming Caroline did the same to Stefan, but I can't tell because I'm too busy laughing and fending off Elena as she tries to steal the controller out of my hands. I yank her down on top of me so her back is to my chest, Elena giggling as I tickle her and try to get the controller back, but I still hear her start "driving," which is really Elena and Caroline crashing their cars against each other and every barrier possible while making tire squealing and engine revving noises, both of them barely able to breathe from laughing.

"Seriously?" I burst out with a chuckle, finally snatching the controller from Elena after Caroline manages to cross the finish line first, both of the cars barely moving from the damage they sustained, and Elena turns over to smile at me.

"We're bored," she whines adorably.

"Because you two have been ignoring us all night," Caroline chimes in.

"Which is _rude_..."

"And we're far too pretty to be so cruelly neglected," Caroline finishes, and Stefan's gaze meets mine as we both roll our eyes.

"You poor little dears," Stefan says mockingly, then sucks in a breath like Caroline pinched him.

"How come you never let us play?" Elena pouts, and I scoff.

"Because you're women."

She gasps and I return the expression playfully, Caroline shrieking my name and I don't even care because I'm lost in the mischievous fire brewing in Elena's eyes.

"Plus, we don't have four controllers," Stefan adds.

"You're both in so much trouble," Caroline pretends to scold, and Elena slowly nods even as the corner of her lips pulls up.

"_So_ much trouble."

"What are you gonna do, ground us?" I taunt Elena, and she arches an eyebrow at me that sends blood rushing below my belt before she smoothly gets up off the couch.

"I just might," she says, and I swallow when she winks at me. "Good night, Care," she says sweetly, then adds in a disapproving tone, "_Stefan_…"

Elena turns on her heel and starts confidently strutting towards my bedroom, and I drop my head back with a groan like I'm dreading going after her, even though it couldn't be further from the truth because I _can't wait_ to see what kind of "penance" she's gonna lay down as soon as I shut the door behind me. But just to play it off, I sigh and lug myself up, scrubbing my hand over my face.

"Good luck," Stefan mutters, and I walk towards my room with a frustrated gait.

I'd like to thank the Academy.

And as soon as I shut my bedroom door, Elena has me pinned against it: the back of my hands being slammed against the wood as she presses her body into mine, nipping at my bottom lip.

"I should make you sleep on the floor," she breathes, and I chuckle.

"Then we'd both suffer."

"_I'm_ not going to suffer," she says wickedly. "You just won't be allowed to _participate_…"

A low moan tumbles out of my throat as I harden, instantly drunk on the thought of seeing Elena's naked body stretched out on my bed as one of her hands drifts over her creamy skin, the other sunk between her soft thighs, and I've never wanted to watch anything more.

"Sounds fair," I whisper, then swallow and lick my lips because my tongue doesn't understand the rules and it desperately wants in on her little game.

She giggles coyly and steps back from me, pulling her shirt up and off and letting it fall carelessly to the floor before she unhooks her lacy bra, flicking it across my room.

"Remember…" she tells me quietly as she unbuttons her jeans, a confident tease to her tone that has my breaths and pulse speeding up without asking permission to do so. "No touching, Salvatore, not unless I say so."

"And do those rules apply _only_ to you?" I ask as I reach behind my head and pull off my shirt, letting it join hers on the floor just as she steps backwards onto the mattress.

She tilts her head as she thinks it over, slipping her jeans off her long legs and baiting me with the sight of her red bikini cut panties.

Christ, my mouth is _watering_.

"You know what I _should_ say," she drawls, her fingertips hooking under the tiny strings of her underwear and then sliding them down, down, down…

"Come on, baby, you're not that cruel," I whisper darkly, and she laughs as she gracefully sinks to her knees, then lays out divinely on my bed.

She watches with a bit of a blush as I unhook my jeans and lower my zipper, taking my time as I step out of the denim and then rid myself of my boxers. Her chest is rising heavily under her speedy breaths, and after she gets her fill of looking, she snaps and points to the floor. I do as she commands and sit down, propping myself against my bedroom door with one of my elbows draped over my bent knee and my dick aching, thick and hard in its desire for her and my hands restless with the need to be put to use.

But instead, I get to watch hers as she smoothes her palms down her breasts and stomach, then over the tops of her thighs until her legs part further, the fingertips of her right hand sliding closer to her center and her left hand moving back up to play with her nipples. I swallow and my exposed cock jumps when she sucks in a breath, her back slightly arched as her right hand dives a little deeper because she's accustomed to my longer fingers: more easily able to find the trigger spots that she never knew existed until I showed them to her.

Her head turns towards me, her eyes fluttering open as her hips roll, and after her gaze drops brazenly to my cock, she smiles.

"You may," she breathes at me, and I grin as I do exactly what she wants, taking myself in my hand. And my skin is so in tune to what's going on less than five feet away from me that my eyes try to roll back under a moan, but I have to see her with a need that I don't know how to sate.

With my focus entirely trained on her, I slowly begin to stroke myself to the rhythm of her body as it moves under her own guidance, and I try to stay quiet, but if I can't touch her, my words will. So under hushed and husky whispers I tell her everything: how incredible she looks, what I want to do to her, what I want her to do to herself. And once her body is loose after the second climax that I begged to witness she forgets all semblance of rules and retribution, crawling from the bed over to where I'm impatiently waiting for her.

She moves my hand away and wraps her lips around me, her moans humming down my shaft as she twirls her tongue over my head, my hands burying themselves in her hair as I grit my teeth because she keeps taking me deeper and deeper and I can't think around how good she feels.

She pulls back to kiss my tip and then repeats the same commands as I gave her, and when I obey she drinks me greedily down, my palm gently cupping the back of her neck as the muscles in my stomach and legs tighten, my whole body rigid with the force of it. And once I can breathe again, there's only one thing in the world that I want and I take it without asking, but she never moves to stop me when I drape her across my floor so her body is open and free for me to enjoy.

I dip my head between her thighs and slide my tongue across her, tasting everything she was keeping from me and I'll never be able to stop, especially not when her nails draw across my scalp in a plea for more as she tilts her hips up to me. I'm not even sure if she realizes that she is my every fantasy; the culmination of thoughts that have been swirling through my mind since I woke up this morning, the cravings that stretched out for hours and hours up until this very moment and they don't stop forming, not even as I relentlessly chase and claim each sinful, dark and dirty wish. But satisfy them, I do.

Every. Single. One.

* * *

I startle at a harsh knock on my bedroom door, and it shocks both me and Elena into a state that is a little less unconscious, but not by much.

"Damon!" Stefan growls and Elena groans, turning over and pulling the covers over her head. "If you two aren't out the door in three minutes, we're leaving without you."

"Dick," I mutter and Elena kicks at my leg under the sheet. "We'll be right there!" I call back, and I listen to Stefan grumble something before hearing Caroline sigh and tell him to stop being so bossy. I roll over and snuggle up behind my girl, way too tired from all the fun we had last night to even contemplate moving.

But apparently she doesn't feel the same and all of a sudden she pops up, her eyes as wide as her grin.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims, and when I wince and try to pull a pillow over my head, she yanks it away. "Damon, we gotta go!"

"Why?" I whine. "Let's just stay here instead…"

She huffs and starts pushing and shoving at me until I fall off the mattress and onto the floor, Elena giggling and then leaping over my nude body all tangled in the sheet in her rush to get to her dance duffel.

"Let's go, let's go!" she chirps and I groan, then get up just in time to see her slipping on some bikini bottoms and fussing with the strings of her top. I snort and turn her around, tying both sets of strings for her and then giving into my true intentions, kissing and nibbling at her neck as my palm slides down her stomach. "Don't even," she warns with a laugh, wiggling out of my grasp and practically skipping towards my closet. "There's no way you could still be thinking about sex after last night."

"More like thanks to last night, sex is the _only_ thing I'll be able to think about until the end of _forever_."

"Damon!" Stefan shouts from the living room, and I roll my eyes as Elena starts digging through my shelves and then tosses me my swim trunks.

"Get over it, we'll be there in a second!" I yell back as I pull them on, groggily tying the draw string.

"Here," Elena says, practically bouncing on her toes while she pulls a t-shirt off a hanger and flings it at me, and I tug it on while she throws on another one of my shirts, then rushes back to her dance bag and steps into a pair of jean shorts.

"Does nobody in this apartment have any appreciation for—"

I get cut off when Elena grabs my hand and tows me from the bedroom as soon as she's dressed, and I flip off an irritated and pacing Stefan as Elena pulls me into the bathroom. I yawn as she squirts just enough toothpaste onto the bristles of my toothbrush before she does the same to the one that she keeps here, then thrusts my toothbrush at me while beginning to brush her teeth with an immediacy that makes my eyebrow rise along with my grin.

"Wharrouwaingfor?" she mumbles and shoves at my shoulder, and I swear to God, you'd think she'd never been to a lake before for how excited she's acting. I still do as she commands until she decides on her own that I'm apparently done, snatching my toothbrush away while I'm in mid-stoke and flicking minty green goop onto the mirror in the process.

"Ena!" I sputter around a frothy mouth, and she giggles and hands me a Dixie cup of water. "Caregonkillyou…"

Elena practically runs from the bathroom while I rinse, calling out to Stefan and Caroline, "Two minutes!" while I wipe off the mirror. Then she's back a moment later, peeking her head around the doorframe with the strap of her bag on her shoulder. I sure hope she packed my stuff in her bag last night while I was at work, because Christ knows we didn't spend any time packing once I got home. "Damon, let's _go_!"

I chuckle, then follow her into the living room where Caroline is the picture of ease as she lays on the couch in her shorts and cover-up, even while Stefan glares at me by the front door with his arms crossed.

"You do realize that I told you I wanted to leave at ten o'clock, not a quarter after eleven, right?"

I scoff, tugging on my sneakers after Elena kicks them over to me before she steps into her flip flops.

"I'm sorry, Stefan, it's my fault. I forgot to set the alarm," Elena tells my brother with an apologetic pout, and when the tightness in his shoulders suddenly dissipates along with his face smoothing out, there's no denying: he fell right for it. Sucker.

"It's fine, Elena, don't worry about it."

Elena winks at me when Stefan bends to pick up his and Caroline's bag, and I snort and so does Caroline as she stands up with a grin. "Don't let him fool you, Elena, Stefan's only been up for ten minutes…"

"Care!" Stefan hisses, and she shrugs.

"What? It's the truth."

"Stop bickering with your girlfriend, Stef, we're late enough as it is," I taunt him, then dart over to hide behind Elena when he turns his glare on me, Elena snickering as I hug my arms around her but still using her as a human shield.

"I'm gonna leave you at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere," he snaps, and I flare my eyes at him mockingly.

But the girls shove us both out the door before he can finish his "menacing" walk towards me, and a minute later we're loaded up and on the road: Stefan driving his truck with Caroline sitting beside him, me and Elena in the bed with her settled against me as she tries, and fails, to obtain the title and honor of Thumb War Champion.

It's far from the worst way to spend the two hour drive out Parker Canyon Lake, along with the other billion people all trying to liven up their Fourth of July weekend, but none of them have a thing on us. Because Elena convinced her dad that since she worked her ass off in school all year and aced her SAT and ACT, that she more than earned going on a camping trip with her friends from work before…

Anyway, he gave the green light for her to miss her family's festivities and to trade them for the Salvatores' Independence Day rituals, even if he's not aware that the only "friend" from her work that she'll be seeing is me, but I don't care. Because her cell phone is still on my nightstand far, far away where it can't ring with alarms that say she's supposed to be somewhere else. For two nights and three days, we're totally and completely free.

And it shouldn't feel this good to have the bed of my brother's truck digging into my spine as I sit against it, the harsh summer sun beating down on my legs and arms as I breathe in the smell of exhaust fumes from the highway, but over the sound of my brother's diesel engine I can hear Elena's voice as she sings Yankee Doodle Dandy, in _Spanish_, and then later, her whispers and giggles when we lay down in the bed of the truck and watch the clouds roll by above us.

But we finally get to the lake and find our normal camping spot, Stefan throwing a hissy fit when Caroline and Elena immediately run off to see the water and leave us to set up the tents and unload the rest of the gear. Not like it should have surprised him when that happened, but my brother apparently felt the need to pay the shock forward because two minutes later, Stefan sighed and told me to go check on them, then passed me the inner tubes with a knowing smirk.

Because he _knows_. Not that I told him, but when I recall the look he gave me the morning after Elena came back from Atlanta, I think he somehow knew before I did…

Whatever, that's not here. It doesn't exist.

What_ does_ exist is Elena's scream when I sneak up on her and scoop her up, then throw her into the lake with no warning. And I'm still laughing when she surfaces, Elena sputtering and wet hair all in her face, before I let out a very manly, high pitched shriek as Caroline pushes me in the water beside Elena, both of the girls beside themselves with giggles when my head comes back above water.

And that's how I forget everything except for what's right in front of me over the next few hours, all of us acting like we're ten to twenty years younger than we are while we dunk each other and play endless rounds of chicken once Stefan joins us. But we eventually cease the battle with a truce that means Elena and I won, but don't want to rub it in their faces, before she and I float off to our own area; hands laced together like they always will be as we stretch out in our inner tubes, just quietly drifting together until the sun sets.

It almost hurts to lose the last light of the day but I tell myself that there's still more time, and I must act out my resolve well enough because Elena doesn't comment on anything about my state of happiness as we make our way back. She can only talk about how amazing today was and that she's about to collapse from starving, then wondering how mad Stefan is going to be when he finds out that she ate all his cookies last night and then put the Veggie Chips in the Milano bag so he has no idea that he is sans chocolate for the entire trip.

I laugh heartily, even though I've never openly admitted to her how much I love it that she teases Stefan relentlessly, and even better is that he doesn't hesitate to mess with her right back. Both he and Caroline accepted her right away and it was a relief I wasn't expecting to feel, to have her fit seamlessly into our weird little family. Although I am a tad concerned that my brother is going to be more than a little pissed when he finds out what she did, because you don't fuck with his chocolate obsession unless you're looking to start a war. But when we get back to our campsite, Stefan and Caroline are too wrapped up in themselves to give any hint that they discovered Elena's food swapping antics, both of them steadily laughing over whatever it is they keep whispering about while sharing a blanket by the bonfire. I can't help but to smile at the sight.

I have no idea how it works or what the correlation is, but whenever Elena is with us, everyone is just _happier_. As though I needed a reason to love her more.

And I'm not sure if she realizes the effect that she's had on my entire world, but she certainly seems to notice the benefits I've been reaping. Because when we're snuggled up on the other side of the bonfire from my brother and his happily-glowing girlfriend as we wait for the fireworks to start, Elena discreetly whispers, "How long have they been together?"

I smile and hug her against me a little more securely, her back and shoulders sheltered by my chest, and I duck my head so my words don't reach anyone but her. "Fifteen years."

"That's amazing," she says a little breathlessly, and I nod. She pulls my arms tighter around her, but when she suddenly sniffles, my brow furrows. I shift to check her face, confusion and panic lacing through me when I see that her cheeks are sparkling with tears.

She's been crying a lot more lately, but only when she thinks I won't notice. Twice I've found her hiding in the shower, sitting on the floor of the tub even as the water rained down, one of her arms hugged around her legs and her other hand covering her mouth to hide the sound of her sobs as her body shook uncontrollably. The first time scared the ever loving shit out of me, and the second damn near broke me. Because there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening, and I know it'll happen again.

I brush my fingertips over her cheek, and she takes a deep breath.

"Do you…" she trails off, then her mouth twists before she asks, "do you think we would've lasted that long?"

Everything in me turns cold, and I'm so focused on Elena's eyes that I don't even startle when the first explosion of fireworks goes off above us, the sizzle and crackle that follows sounding like the dying embers of all that we're desperately trying to hold onto, even as we continually try to pretend that this isn't happening.

But we can't escape it forever and I know that it's coming, because I always should have expected it. Her lotion was my hint of looming gunpowder and our first kiss the boom, months of phone calls and texts and dances being the lights that brighten the sky in a flash of awe inducing beauty. But it only ever lasts for a second before those richest of colors dim, fading into a puff of smoke that tries to linger, but will eventually disappear into the burnt smell of memories.

Elena's bottom lip trembles before she inhales deeply in an effort to calm herself, then quietly, she tells me with a brokenhearted smile, "Happy Independence Day, Damon."

And it's the single worst thing she's ever said to me.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know it's hard and kind of a downer, but bear with me, my lovelies, and in the meantime I cannot wait to hear your thoughts and again, thank you so much for all that you did on the last chapter! Totally made my week. Once again, have a wonderful 4th of July weekend and PLEASE STAY SAFE! LOVE YOU ALL!**

**-Goldnox**


End file.
